Herpetology
by Andrea13 and PersephoneKore
Summary: Herpo the Foul, basilisk breeder of yore, winds up unconscious and nibbled by gnomes behind the Burrow. Ginny really finds Parselmouths in the oddest places, doesn't she?
1. Snake in the Garden

**Herpetology  
by Andrea13 and Persephone  
Chapter 1: Snake in the Garden**

There was nothing better after defeating a Dark Lord than sitting around trading Chocolate Frog Cards with the Weasleys. If you asked Harry, it beat the public celebrations and ecstasies all hollow. Quiet it wasn't, but it was warm, friendly, and blessedly free of reporters, and it involved the best company possible.

And, of course, it involved eating the chocolate.

"You'd better not be spoiling your dinner," Mrs. Weasley told them all sternly, looking in from the kitchen.

"Won't," Ginny said calmly around half a frog.

"Can't," Ron added.

"Chicken smells too good. We'll still be hungry," Harry finished with a grin.

"Here, catch!" George tossed a Chocolate Frog in his mother's direction; she gave him a severe look but picked it deftly out of the air and vanished back into the kitchen.

Harry tore the wrapper from another and popped the chocolate into his mouth, then took a look at the card and nearly choked. "Think this one's new," he managed when he could speak, and turned it around for the rest of them to see. "Didn't waste any time, did they?"

There, under a recognizable if not perfectly accurate picture, black letters read boldly, "VOLDEMORT."

"He'd be so disappointed," Ginny said drily. "They left out the 'lord.'"

Ron smirked. "Wonder when we'll get one of _yours_, Harry. Hope they've got a better picture than this, at least."

"Think if they don't, people will stop recognizing me? '_That_ can't be Harry Potter! He doesn't look a thing like his Chocolate Frog Card.'" Harry flipped Voldemort around again and stuck out his tongue at the picture. It flinched back a bit. "Let's see who else we've got."

"We TOLD you, Harry," Fred spoke up with a wide grin.

George took up the thread. "If you want people to stop recognizing you, just try--"

"Our new Chameleon Powder! Sprinkle a little in your drink and no one will recognize you all day."

"Of course, that's because you'll be purple with green spots from head to toe," George added with mock-regret, "but NO ONE will be looking at your scar!"

"And I keep telling you, you've really misnamed that stuff," Harry countered. "The point of a chameleon is it's supposed to _blend in_. --Anybody missing Queen Maeve?"

"No, I've got three. And we're still perfecting it. Trouble is, we tested it in the wrong room. Now it won't blend to anything ELSE."

"You'll want to be more careful about that. And stay away from my drink," Ginny told them.

"I've got Rowena Ravenclaw, Uric the Oddball, and Herpo the Foul over here." She wrinkled her nose at the last card. "I haven't got another Herpo, and I'm not sure I _want_ him."

"Herpo the Foul?" Ron frowned. "What'd he do, inspire the bathtub?"

Ginny flicked the card over. "Worse."

Ron picked it up and read the summary. "Herpo the Foul. Ancient Greek Parselmouth reknowned for -- oh. THAT Herpo."

"Basilisks." She sighed. "Though you've got a point about the bathtub. His hair looks worse than Snape's."

"His picture probably isn't any better than Voldemort's," Harry pointed out, flipping through his cards quickly. "Anybody got a spare Helga Hufflepuff? She's the only Founder I'm missing."

There was a quick shuffle, but nobody did. "Not here, mate, but I think I've got two up in my room," Ron said after a moment. "I can go look --"

"After dinner," Mrs. Weasley's voice interjected. "Someone needs to set the table and help me carry -- Fred, George, if anything untoward gets into _anyone's_ food, you're skipping pudding."

"Mum!" the twins protested in chorus.

"You act like you don't trust us at _all_," George said as he hopped up.

Fred followed suit and added, "Downright insulting, it is."

Harry took one look at Ginny's smile when _she_ got up and decided he might want to carry the chicken himself.

Ginny slipped out after dinner -- which none of them had spoiled despite her mother's warnings about the afternoon's chocolate frogs -- and went over to her tree, glancing over her shoulder once and going around opposite the house before taking out her wand and checking the lowest branch. Then she put the wand away, reached up with both hands, and pulled herself into the tree.

It was a very good tree. It had been comfortable even before she'd sneaked a Cushioning Charm onto the best sitting-spot, and while she was certain her entire family including the twins knew where she went, they generally let her alone here and she hadn't yet found any tricks left by the twins.

It was an excellent tree to sit in while everyone else ignored the twins' protests that they hadn't sprinkled Chameleon Powder in the cake. Ginny took the countercharmed biscuit from her pocket, popped it into her mouth, and watched the garish colors start to fade.

Fred and George would go get some for everyone as soon as the yelling tapered off a bit.

She settled comfortably where the trunk split and a sturdy branch stretched out and stared off over the garden while the sun set, watching the sky shade into warm colors in the west while the east went cooler. There was movement over the ground; they'd have to de-gnome soon. Probably it would be assigned as soon as somebody got in trouble, or else some of the boys would decide to compete for distance in gnome-tossing.

Harry had always done startlingly well at that for being smaller than her brothers -- she understood he'd felt sorry for the gnomes at first, and then one bit him. Then again, she wasn't that bad at it herself. And she'd listened when her brothers said they bit.

It was going to be nice this summer. Harry and Hermione were probably going to be visiting enough they almost might as well be staying, and even if they were all very tired and practically in shock with relief about it, there were no Dark wizards to worry about any more....

...And at that moment there was a strange sight in the garden, like the afterimage of a flash -- dark instead of bright, with blue around the edges -- and her ears popped.

Ginny blinked hard several times in an attempt to clear her vision before realizing that there was nothing wrong with how _she_ was seeing, even though it felt as if she ought to need to blink. She could see the garden clearly enough, or at any rate as clearly as could be expected given the dimming light. ...And where the black not-flash had been, there was some sort of pale spot, and the little motions of the gnomes were converging on it.

There was some not-quite-smell that whirled up and reminded her of the diary, but then it seemed to fade. Maybe it had been a Dark spell that just went off... but unless it had deposited something dangerous, it seemed to have failed. She tried a diagnostic spell that Bill had shown her -- meant for stronger and nastier things than Fred and George made -- and found nothing, so she slid down from the tree and went cautiously down to investigate.

Ginny was quite surprised when the pale patch resolved itself into a person. Dark hair, somewhat pale skin -- that gave her a turn for a second, but the clothes looked like something out of ancient Greece of all things. The body was almost alarmingly thin (though she wasn't of a mind to assume it would be weak, so she approached cautiously), and the features were sharp and pinched and possibly Mediterranean and absolutely nothing like those of Harry or any incarnation of Tom.

Given that he appeared to be at most semiconscious, Ginny somehow doubted that the person had intended to arrive here, at least in this particular manner. She would have liked to approach slowly, quietly, and cautiously, but the gnomes made this impossible. One latched onto her leg while she was thinking. So she kicked at it, then charged them, knocking a few out of her way and surreptitiously hexing a few others so that they gave her a little breathing space.

The ones poking at the new arrival seemed to be waking him up. He stirred a bit and winced when one nipped his arm, then opened his eyes, scowling -- unless that was just how his face looked -- and swatting at a gnome in what looked like alarm before shutting them again and sneezing violently. Maybe one had got at his nose; some claimed Jack Frost was another variety of gnome....

Ginny secured her wand and knocked another gnome hard away so that they all backed off a bit, ringing her and the intruder warily. Probably wouldn't be long before they closed in again, but she gave them her best imitation-Mum glower to delay it and crouched down, wand out. "Hello?"

The man blinked up at her, still scowling but with a distinctly confused cast to it. His mouth opened and sounds came out, but they were completely unintelligible.

"Um...I have no idea what you just said, I'm sorry. My name is Ginny Weasley. I live here. Well, not _here_, but in the house over there. What's your name?"

More unintelligible sounds. This was _not_ going well...

Ginny glared ferociously across the unintelligible man at a gnome and tried to think of a new approach. At least he wasn't doing anything terribly alarming at the moment. She pointed to herself and said carefully, "Ginny," then pointed back at him and tried to look inquiring. She felt very silly about it, too.

He stared at her for a long moment, suspiciously, so she sighed, repeated the whole thing, and this time tried to smile and generally look non-threatening. A look of what was possibly comprehension dawned and he pointed to himself. In a low, almost hissing voice, he replied, "Herpo."

Ginny blinked and spent a few seconds thinking very carefully about not falling over backwards. This was good. Falling over would have been very undignified. Not doing so was also a useful, if brief, distraction from the shock of having someone introduce himself as a Chocolate Frog card. Although he certainly didn't look a thing like the picture. Of course, it was extremely unlikely that it was actually _Herpo the Foul_. He should, after all, be dead by now even if his basilisk _hadn't_ eaten him, not to mention he was supposed to have been in Greece. (The clothing did not make that thought reassuring.) On the other hand, how many people were really likely to name their child Reptile, even in Greek?

Especially when it was the name of a Dark wizard. This was not, Ginny thought, very promising either way. She wasn't sure how much good it was likely to do her, but just in case, she was rather glad she'd kept her wand out. She adjusted the position of that hand a little at the thought and was startled to see... Herpo... flinch.

He held out his open hands and hissed something else. It didn't sound like a spell, but other than that she wasn't sure if it was meant to be reassuring or threatening.

Wait a minute, hissing.... Okay, this was either Herpo the Foul or someone with his name, possibly a speech impediment, and a disturbing preference for ancient Greek apparel. So... if it _was_ Herpo the Foul, he would speak Parseltongue. And if it _wasn't_, a Parselmouth would know for sure. Luckily enough, she happened to have a Parselmouth at her house at this very moment. Life really worked out very conveniently sometimes.

...Well, except for the random appearance of possible Dark wizards, but she brushed that aside for now. At the very least he seemed unusually nonthreatening for a possible Dark wizard. That might, however, only be because there was a limit to how much menace one could project while lying (or sitting, as without taking his eyes off her he rather gingerly pushed himself up to a seated position and wrapped his arms around his knees) in someone else's garden with a runny nose and a half-dazed expression.

She considered this and, as the conversation seemed to be at something of an impasse until she got Harry or got Herpo _to_ Harry -- one of which would require leaving Herpo alone in the garden and the other bringing him to the house -- hunted a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to him while she tried to decide which would be better.

Herpo was, for his part, thoroughly confused by this point. He didn't know where he was, except that it was certainly not where he had started out. He had no idea what language the oddly-dressed girl was speaking to him. From the wand she was a witch, but she didn't know him either. At least she hadn't hexed him yet, though his name -- assuming that was what she'd really been trying to ask -- had seemed familiar to her. And even though it had to be clear from his voice he hadn't spoken anything but Parseltongue in quite a while....

She'd even chased off... whatever those things were that had been trying to bite him. Not that he was counting on a repeat performance, but... well, at least she hadn't hexed him. It wasn't as if he was in any shape to dodge. He shivered, more from cold than any sense of foreboding. How much worse could it get, anyway? He was in some strange place -- some strange _cold_ place, he amended -- with an odd girl looking at him whom he couldn't even speak to. Then again, being able to speak to people had never helped much before....

All in all, he much preferred the company of snakes to humans. Why couldn't it have been a nice snake that had found him...wherever this was? That would have made things so much easier...but who was he to expect easy? The one good thing he'd ever managed to do was create his beauty, his basilisk, and for that he'd been shunned and hated even more than before. How could this fire-haired child be any worse than the others?

He mused on the basilisk a little bit -- lovely, at least once it grew a bit, lethal... but terror did not seem to substitute well for respect, at least not for him. He was certain they would kill him if they ever got past the snake. Except that he wasn't _there_ anymore --

The girl gave a shake to a small square of white cloth that she was holding toward him; she looked irritated. Herpo took it, rather gingerly, and returned to staring at her warily.

Ginny finally got him to take the handkerchief, but then he just sat there holding it. And looking at her. She smothered a sigh and resisted an insane impulse to take it back and wipe his nose for him. It couldn't possibly go over well. He wasn't four. It probably wouldn't go over well if he _were_ four. Right, then. She settled on taking him to the house; it would keep him from wandering around unsupervised, at least if she could get him to come with her, and there would be more people around in case he _did_ decide to do something worrisome.

Besides, leaving him in the garden by himself seemed dangerous if he were evil and awfully rude if he weren't, especially since she couldn't explain anything to him. And she thought he was shivering a bit; he wasn't really dressed for the weather here, even in summer. So she pointed to herself, to him, and then emphatically back toward the house, then stood up and held out a hand to help him up.

After a bit more suspicious staring on his part and friendly (if impatient) smiling on hers, he slowly grasped her hand. His skin was clammy. Ginny struggled to keep up the friendly smile and pointed towards the house again, giving a slight tug to his hand. He looked down at his feet and took one careful step, then another.

He was definitely shivering; Ginny could feel the tremors coming up her arm. For some reason, this made it a little easier for her to wait patiently while he acted as if he either was out of practice walking or was expecting the ground to cave in if he stepped on it too hard. She spent the time trying to think what on earth she was going to say to her family, how to propose to Harry that he try conversing in Parseltongue to find out if this was Herpo the Foul, why his hands were so cold, whether perhaps he wasn't really or usually human and actually _wasn't_ used to having feet, where exactly she'd left her cloak and if it might be somewhere she could Summon it from....

After considerable concentration on that last one, she built up a clear image of where it ought to be and pointed her wand up toward her own bedroom window. "_Accio_ cloak." First a trunk lid and then the window creaked obligingly open, letting the folded fabric out to plop down into her arms. She shook it out and threw it over his shoulders, though he tried to duck. "It's a _cloak_. To keep you warm. What did you expect?" She sighed then; he couldn't understand her and sounding annoyed probably wasn't going to help anything.

Herpo clutched at the fabric that the girl had thrown at him. It didn't seem to have had any ill effects from first touch, though you could never tell what spells had been put on a piece of cloth. The horrors that witch Medea had inflicted on her husband's new wife were already legend. But...it seemed to be perfectly normal, if rather heavy...And it certainly was warm. He cozied into it slightly and nodded at the girl, who was starting to look a bit miffed. But really, what did she expect when she went around throwing random objects at people?!

Ginny nodded back and retrieved her smile, then picked up his hand again and led him the rest of the way toward the door. "Ah... Mum? Everybody? Harry especially?"

"Oooh," Fred and George started to chorus.

Ginny gave them one of the glares leftover from the gnomes, then tugged Herpo into view and went on before they could say anything more clever than that. "This is, ah, well, he says his name is Herpo, but he doesn't seem to speak English so that's as far as we got. He just appeared in the garden out of nowhere. Er... it sounds... hiss-like when he talks; Harry, could you try...?"

"Herpo the Foul?" Fred asked quickly, giving the new wizard an interested and excited perusal.

George grinned and intoned, "Cool!"

"I'm not sure, and stop looking at him like that, you're going to make him nervous," Ginny shot back quickly, giving Herpo another reassuring smile. "More nervous. Anyway, leaving him in the garden seemed like a bad idea no matter who he is, so I brought him in for Harry to talk to. Harry, please?"

Everyone looked at Harry expectantly. He rubbed his temples. "I thought I just got done with Dark wizards," he muttered to no one in particular. Now Ginny was finding them, possibly, in the back garden. He wasn't sure whether he should be more or less worried that the possible-Dark-wizard in question was being led around by the hand looking half-terrified. "All right," he added quickly, "I don't mind, don't worry. Not sure if I can do it without a snake here, though, unless another Parselmouth will do as well, so no promises."

"There's a picture of one," Ginny pointed out, "on the Chocolate Frog card."

There certainly was. It was actually a pretty good depiction of a (very small) basilisk, at least considering the problem with _looking_ at basilisks. Harry was looking at Herpo, though, when he drew in a breath, considered what to say, and then let it out in a hiss. "I'm Harry Potter." It was odd hearing a lot of hisses as his name. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

Herpo sagged just a little in relief. A Parselmouth! A young one, but apparently on friendly enough terms with the girl and the other people here. He wouldn't be attacked for that, at least. He allowed a very small relieved sigh, then hissed, "I am Herpo." He omitted the usual honorifics indicating one's home and parentage; he didn't have those anymore, as far as he was concerned. "I have no idea what I'm doing here. I _was_ in my cave until a few moments ago."

Harry tilted his head and tried to think whether there was any polite way to ask someone you'd just met if anybody called him "the Foul." Better leave that for a minute. He could always ask about the basilisk. "Your... cave?"

A wordless hiss of disdain, then, "My home."

"You weren't by any chance experimenting with transport spells, were you?"

"Experimenting, yes. Transport spells, no. Where _have_ I been transported, then? This looks like no place I know of. And your language and dress are strange."

"Uh... Britain. Where were you in the first place?"

"...Cyrenaica."

Harry looked blank.

Herpo discerned that he had not only been transported very far, he had fallen among barbarians who might be friendly but were also ignorant of geography in important places. "Greek lands in Libya."

Harry couldn't help glancing at the card and tried not to be terribly obvious about it. "You're... er... quite a way north, er, northwest of there," he said after a moment. "Look. Did you, in any of your... earlier experiments, invent a basilisk?"

Herpo's face lit up in a smile, for one moment seeming less homely and suspicious. "My beauty," he said reverently, a faraway light in his eyes. "Word of him has spread this far, so soon? He truly is the King of Serpents!"

Harry rubbed a hand over his face in an effort not to either laugh or look appalled. "It's him," he said in English. "I just asked him about inventing a basilisk and... well, you see. He went sort of rhapsodic."

"Yes," Ginny said, "I do see." She eyed Herpo sideways, although this was due as much to the fact that she hadn't let go and moved away from him yet as to alarm. "Wonderful, I just dragged a Dark wizard into the house."

"Well," Harry said diplomatically, "he doesn't seem to have done anything alarming _here_ yet. Perhaps it's all right as long as we keep him away from the eggs."

"He looks awfully _nervous_ for a Dark wizard," Ron remarked speculatively. "'Course, so did Quirrell."

"He doesn't stutter," said Harry, "at least not in Parseltongue." Which he should probably switch back to now. Hmm. "We've heard of it," he hissed, "or, I suppose, them. It's not exactly 'so soon'; I think you've been transported in time, too."

"In time? How far in time?" Herpo asked, beginning to look panicked. "I have to get back to my cave. My beauties need to be taken care of!"

"Er... I don't think they're still there. It's been... about twenty-five centuries, I think, give or take, and," this was NOT going to go over well, he suspected, "I'm sorry, but according to history... er... your basilisks attacked the surrounding area until they heard a rooster crowing one morning at dawn, and then died." He wasn't lying, really. He WAS sorry, just more about the attacking than that the basilisks were dead.

At first, Herpo just blinked dazedly, trying to comprehend the "twenty-five centuries" comment. He couldn't possibly have jumped twenty-five centuries! NO ONE could do that, least of all someone who hadn't even been trying. This boy was just mistaken and -- "Died?" he suddenly whispered, stricken. "My beauties? My poor, precious babies?" He snarled and jerked away from Ginny, turning his back to the assorted Weasleys (and Harry). "Must they destroy _everything_ that matters to me?!"

Ginny took a step back as Herpo whirled, nearly fetching up against the door she'd pulled shut when they came in.

Harry hissed, "Hey, _she_ didn't do it. It was the chickens. And the basilisks _were_ going around killing people; you couldn't really blame anybody for trying to stop them."

"OH YES I COULD!" Herpo roared, whirling back around to face Harry with his eyes flashing. "All animals hunt! They meant no harm! They were perfect, my beautiful creations, and they were SLAUGHTERED!"

"It wasn't one of _yours_, but a basilisk nearly killed one of my best friends a few years ago, and from what I heard it say it meant _enough_ harm," Harry snapped. Oh, this was not going well. He tried to tell himself to think of it like Hagrid with his pets. Though Hagrid wasn't a Dark wizard. But still. "Look. I don't even think anybody knew the roosters would kill them until they already had." At least the first one.

"They would have killed my poor babies quickly enough _had_ they known," Herpo snapped. His shoulders sagged suddenly. "My poor beauties. They did nothing wrong but be associated with me..."

"I really think going around killing people probably had more to do with it. Especially the part about killing by sight."

"What do you know of it? You weren't even there. It was centuries ago to you! Perhaps _now_ Parselmouths are not hated and feared; perhaps _you_ can walk in public with all knowing who you are and not have stones cast at you. It was not always the case. People feared me, and they feared my poor beauties. I did nothing to them, but they hated me and killed my babies."

"Harry," Ginny murmured rather urgently, "are you actually trying to calm him down or, well, not?" All Parseltongue sounded essentially the same to her, at least when humans spoke it -- garden snakes in her experience sounded considerably softer and less menacing. But Herpo was fairly obviously agitated even without using how he _sounded_ as a cue.

"Sorry," Harry muttered to her. He thought for a minute and tried Herpo again. "All right. You're right, I wasn't there, and... people have tried to kill me before, but one of them happened to be another Parselmouth and the rest were serving him, so I'd say that wasn't why." Except for the suspicion that he had become a Parselmouth himself on account of the FIRST time. At least it was useful sometimes. "But still, in _my_ experience if a creature's going around killing people, that's usually reason enough to want to get rid of it, no matter what you think of anybody who actually happens to like it."

Herpo shuddered and leaned against the wall, resting his head in his hands. "And they would not have left and become a danger if I had not abandoned them."

Ginny patted Herpo's arm rather gingerly. He jumped; she held up both hands, open and (hopefully) placating, when he looked at her. Apparently this was adequately reassuring; he dropped his head back to his hands. "Harry, what --"

"He _says_," Harry explained a bit uncertainly, "that the basilisks weren't supposed to leave his, ah, cave and be a danger to anybody. He seemed to think they'd been killed on account of being associated with him, though I might've convinced him it was their, er, hunting habits. I don't think he's any happier about that though."

"You mean he didn't mean them to kill all those people?" Ginny asked doubtfully. "Then why DID he create them? They kill just by _looking_ at you."

"I haven't asked that yet... and he _could_ be a Dark wizard and just lying, though... I _think_ he really is that upset." Harry regarded Herpo rather uneasily and added in Parseltongue, "I don't mean to be rude, but if they weren't supposed to be a danger, why create something that can kill with a look in the first place?"

"People would kill us the moment they saw us!" Herpo protested hotly. "Why not give them a defense to use against a harsh world?"

Harry relayed this sentiment; the Weasleys, judging by their expressions, agreed with his opinion of it but agreed as well that it probably wasn't going to do much good to try to talk Herpo out of the notion at this point. "Aren't you exaggerating a little? Somebody has to have seen you at some point." He thought.

"Who then tried to hurt me, drive me away, kill me. I have little faith in the supposed goodness of humanity," Herpo replied in a low hiss. "They are cruel and vicious and unfeeling. I gave my beauties protection against them, so NO ONE could harm them! And they were felled by a _chicken_."

"If you can find time in between the history of basilisks, Harry," Molly Weasley began firmly before Harry had a chance to answer, "and if he _isn't_ planning to attack anyone at the moment, would you mind asking him if he's eaten yet? Dark wizard or not, and it's sounding a bit more like not, he looks half-starved."

Harry blinked at her for a moment before managing to wrap his brain around the disturbingly normal question. "Uh, of course. Just a minute." Harry tried to sound properly welcoming as he hissed, "Whatever you may think of humanity in general, the Weasleys are good people. Mrs. Weasley thinks you look hungry and would like to give you something to eat."

It was Herpo's turn to blink, as nonplussed as Harry had been a moment ago. "She -- I -- what? ...Why?" This was not an intelligent question; he probably shouldn't be arguing the point....

Harry had never heard what amounted to semi-coherent Parseltongue before. A bit staccato. "Because," he said, fighting a rather absurd urge to laugh, "she does that." He squinted a bit and tried to guess Herpo's age. "And if you're less than about thirty, you're probably around the age of some of her kids, so she feels like she ought to mother you."

"...No one mothers me." Not even his own mother. But... he _was_ hungry. This place was strange, but it seemed cozy and warm and... welcoming.

When had he ever had a welcome?

Harry's mouth twitched involuntarily. "She will if you let her. Looks to me like Ginny's been trying it, as well."

"I..." Herpo blinked rapidly. "I am hungry..."

Harry nodded. "He hasn't, and thank you." Granted Herpo hadn't actually gotten to the point of thanking her yet, but he still looked confused and Harry had decided to put it in anyway. As Mrs. Weasley began taking food back out and swiftly heated up a plate, Harry added in a wry hiss, "It might make you feel better, sort of.... We had chicken."

Herpo looked over at him, blinked rapidly, then started shaking and leaned back against the wall, hissing in nearly-silent laughter.

It was very disturbing to watch, but Harry thought he should probably take it as a good sign.

"Is he laughing," Ginny asked in a low voice, "or having some sort of convulsion?"

"Laughing, I think," Harry told her. "I said we'd had chicken for dinner."

"Oh."

"Odd, isn't he?" George remarked presently.

"Just a bit," Fred agreed. "Ginny, you find Parselmouths the strangest places, don't you?"

Ginny's face soon matched her hair. "It wasn't my fault. He was just _there_. I couldn't leave him to get nibbled on by the gnomes, could I?"

"I object to being 'found' like I was a lost puppy," Harry added dryly. "Besides, _I_ found _you_."

"Well, no, not you. Now, Herpo there _looks_ like a lost puppy," Fred pointed out, kindly not explicitly mentioning the diary.

"Come now, boys, there's no reason to insult him. He's a long way from home as it is," Mrs. Weasley chided, still bustling around. She set an overloaded plate at the table and gestured invitingly towards her guest. "Come on, dear, have a seat. You look starved."

Herpo's nostrils twitched. The food smelled unfamiliar, but good, and the warmth of the house was starting to seep into him at last. The red-haired woman was smiling at him. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had smiled at him, even if only because she felt sorry for him.... "Does that mean it's ready?" he hissed hesitantly.

"Yes," Harry hissed back, "she said to sit down." He was going to have to find a translation spell, or ask Hermione -- though if there was one, why hadn't Fudge used it to the Bulgarian minister...? Oh well. He hoped there was, or he was going to spend all his time translating. "And, er... you might want to wipe your nose," he added in as polite a tone as he could manage for the topic. "I think Ginny gave you her handkerchief for a reason."

"Her what?" Herpo looked blankly down at the scrap of fabric the girl had given him. "I thought it was some odd local custom..." He shrugged and wiped his nose with it. What odd people. At least there was food.

-----


	2. Serpents, Weasels, the Face in the Fire

**Herpetology  
by Andrea13 and Persephone  
Chapter 2: Serpents, Weasels, and the Face in the Fire**

Herpo's table manners were, unsurprisingly, not exactly the norm at the Weasley table, but this was graciously enough overlooked, and everyone else cheerfully made conversation - mostly with each other, as conversation with Herpo had to be conducted by gestures or relayed through Harry. Mrs. Weasley tended to hover. Herpo began to wonder whether perhaps his welcome carried enough suspicion that she found it necessary to keep him under guard... but it was a relatively kindly guard if so. (In reality, while she would have been fierce if he _had_ seemed to threaten her children, she was mostly keeping watch that none of her children sneaked anything strange into their guest's food.)

What she failed to prevent, however, was pure accident - when Herpo was in the act of standing, finally, at the end of the meal, it happened that George and Ron were both trying to pass by behind him at the same time, and in close quarters and a bit off balance, Ron accidentally elbowed him in the back.

Ron recovered quickly and turned quickly to apologize. "Sorry, I mean, Harry, could you tell -" He broke off in astonishment as it registered that Herpo was leaning on the table, breath catching agonizedly. "What in - I didn't think it was that hard - I say, are you all right?"

Harry was staring and asking quickly, "Are you all right? It was just an accident; he didn't mean anything!"

"I..." Herpo gasped in pain, doubled over. "Not...bad..."

Ron was leaning worriedly over Herpo and had cautiously taken his arm with an idea of directing him back into the chair; Herpo tried to retain what dignity he could by not panicking and trying to pull away - it wasn't as if it would do any good - but did resist being moved, hunched over as the pain radiated from the old wound in his back. It made moving uncomfortable sometimes, but it hadn't been _struck_ again before...

Harry did not think "not bad" was very convincing. "It _looks_ like it hurts pretty bad. What happened? Can we do anything?"

"Just an...old wound," Herpo hissed, trying to get back his breath. "It still pains me sometimes. I am fine." He remained hunched over, however, and his face was pale and drawn with pain. He wasn't terribly convincing. "Tell the boy he can let go now; I'm not going to fall over or curse him."

"You could sit back down," Harry suggested, "if that might help." He switched to English. "Ron, he says you hit an old injury and you can let go of him now."

"Oh. Right." Ron let go, but he still looked worried. "Er...I could make some tea?"

Harry managed not to laugh at him, but Mrs. Weasley didn't. Herpo managed to glance warily up at her; at once she stopped laughing and came over, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Now then, it's all right - my, you're jumpy - poor dear. Won't you sit down? Perhaps the other room, when you feel you can walk, that might be more comfortable..."

"We could levitate him, Mum," Fred offered.

Harry helpfully translated most of Molly's words, though he left out Fred's offer. That might make Herpo more nervous than he already was, and that was saying something. Herpo twitched a smile at the fussing woman and sat gingerly, still half-bent in his chair. "Really, I will be fine. It was mostly surprising. Is everyone this..._concerned_ here?"

"Er... well, not everybody... _around_ here, and the twins are tricksters, but the Weasleys generally really are this nice, yes. And Hermione and... some other people. It depends."

Herpo had straightened up a little - never quite all the way, but then he hadn't been before - in his chair during this somewhat muddled explanation and was trying very hard to relax. He was just getting somewhere, and the pain was easing, when he sneezed again - which hurt nearly as much as the accidental blow.

"Oh you poor _dear_!" Molly exclaimed, apparently completely forgetting that their guest was a (rather dirty) ancient Dark wizard and only seeing a young man in distress. "You need to be in bed, dear. With a nice soothing draught, I think."

"No!" Herpo gasped when Harry hissed out a translation, trying to shake off the hand on his arm. "I am fine!"

"It's all right," Harry replied, rather startled at the vehemence, "she's not going to poison you, you know."

"I am well; I do not need your _assistance_," Herpo protested again, mostly because he couldn't recall the last time someone had offered assistance and knew there must be some sort of a catch. Hadn't they murdered his beauties as soon as he stopped keeping an eye on them? Well, not _these_ them, but Others nonetheless. He couldn't trust them...

"I don't think," Harry began, then paused as Herpo huddled around another sneeze, which left tears in his eyes and was definitely not going to mollify Mrs. Weasley. "Er, bless you... I don't think she's going to _believe_ you're fine, you see."

A short, bitter laugh, which was somewhat difficult to get out around gasps of pain, but Herpo managed. "Of course. Why should you not doubt my word? No one ever believes the foul Parselmouth. Can no one just let me live or die in peace!"

Harry refrained from pointing out that dying did not generally qualify as 'fine,' and considered just translating this to Mrs. Weasley and letting _her_ come up with a response, but decided to give Herpo one more shot before resorting to that. "They believe _me_ - but only when I'm not obviously talking nonsense. You don't _look_ fine, or act like it, and _I'm_ not going to try to tell her you are."

Herpo tried to recall if anyone had ever _argued_ with him this much. Not in his memory. "I tell you, I am fine. Old injuries."

"And, what, an allergy to the tablecloth?" Harry sighed and looked up at Mrs. Weasley. "_He_ says he's fine and doesn't need to be looked after."

Mrs. Weasley hmphed loudly. "'Fine' indeed! You boys are all the same! You wouldn't admit you were feeling a trifle off if you had a hole straight through your head." She seemed to be addressing all of this to Herpo, who was staring at her with wide and unwittingly-fascinated eyes despite not being able to understand a word. "Now you listen to me, young man! You need a nice warm bed and some chicken soup and Pepper-Up, and if I have to tie you down, that's what you'll get!"

Harry decided that while he wasn't sure how much good it would do given her manner, the words could stand to be toned down a bit in translation. "She says," he hissed, "that boys are all the same and wouldn't admit anything was wrong if there was a hole in our heads - see, it's not Parseltongue putting you under suspicion, much more general - and that she's going to put you to bed and feed you soup." He paused. "It sounds like a little much for a head cold to me too, but it's not going to _hurt_."

"...Are all the women in this place so...forceful?"

"Not _all_ of them, but most of them I know seem to be," Harry replied honestly, thinking of Hermione and the Weasley women. "They're very nice, really."

Herpo looked somewhat dubious, but nodded reluctantly. "I will not antagonize her. Medusa was friendlier..."

Harry tried desperately not to laugh on the theory that he would then have to translate this. Thankfully, even "Medusa" was unrecognizable in Parseltongue. "I didn't know you'd met," he hissed a little breathlessly, "but I've always thought Mrs. Weasley was very friendly. Just... also very determined."

"What other woman would taint herself by speaking with a Parselmouth?" Herpo hissed morosely. "And even she... ah, no matter. She is long since gone. Tell your Mrs. Weasley I... appreciate her hospitality."

Harry decided that even the Dursleys might have been an improvement on ancient Greece, at least if he'd known he was a Parselmouth earlier. At least they'd been temporary, and he'd recovered from everything Dudley's friends ever did. He also wondered whether the basilisks' deadly gaze might have been in tribute of some sort to the problem of looking at Medusa, then decided he didn't really want to think about it.

Besides, there was something very odd about the thought of being able to carry on a conversation with someone's hair.

"He said to tell you he appreciates your hospitality," Harry told Mrs. Weasley, "but I think you're scaring him a little."

"Oh dear." Mrs. Weasley looked extremely dismayed and compensated by acting even _more_ mothering, which was probably what was scaring Herpo in the first place. "I'm sorry. I'm not really sure how to deal with random ancient wizards showing up at my door."

"She's doing it again," Herpo hissed/groaned to Harry.

"Yes, I see that. Er... relax?"

"I am relaxed! I would hardly accuse her of trying to harm a _guest_. But she is very...intense."

"She's trying to make you feel better. Really." He looked up at Mrs. Weasley. "Well... I don't think he's quite used to being... fussed over."

"It takes Mum to fuss over a Dark wizard," Fred intoned solemnly.

"He doesn't seem so Dark," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Just...scared."

"He still said he created basilisks, didn't he?" Ron added belligerently. "Sounds Dark enough to me!"

"But very cool," George said brightly, "if you _don't_ let them go around killing people, which we have _some_ indication he didn't mean to do, if this is the disappearance and coming here was an accident. And really. How on earth did he think of hatching a chicken egg with a toad? It's very impressive."

"Say that after facing one down with a bird and an old hat," Harry said dryly, but he decided it wouldn't hurt to relay that on to Herpo. It might even calm him down a bit. So he hissed, "George thinks you were very clever in creating your basilisks. How _did_ you think of using a toad to hatch the chicken egg?"

Herpo blinked at him. "Er... a great deal of trial and error. But finally, you see, I recalled that there were a great number of rumors regarding the results of handling toads, including effects on, ah, pregnant women," oddly, he blushed, "and the chicken's egg seemed the most appropriate based on habits and significance..."

Harry blinked back, finally translating, "Something about how toads affect pregnant women, but mostly lots of trial and error."

"You have to wonder about someone who has nothing better to do with his time than try hatching eggs under different animals," Fred muttered.

"Fred Weasley, you be polite!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed in outrage.

"But he can't understand us, Mum!"

"That's no excuse for rudeness!"

"He lived in a cave," Harry said. "I don't think he _did_ have much else to do. We're probably lucky I didn't stay with the Dursleys long enough to end up creating new cousins for the Acromantulas in the cupboard."

Ron twitched. "Not funny, mate," he muttered. Harry grinned apologetically.

Herpo sneezed again and hissed.

"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said at once, sending some of her children into fits of smothered laughter again. "We didn't mean to neglect you. Why don't we get you to - well, a hot bath first if you'd care for one, and then off to bed?"

When Harry translated, Herpo's face lit up. "A bath? A real bath? A real, hot bath?" He kissed Mrs. Weasley's hand. "Madam, I will be your servant for a bath."

Harry faithfully reported this - albeit with not _quite_ as much enthusiasm, as he didn't want to seem to make fun and that much, at least, had been clearly communicated to begin with - while Molly was still blinking in surprise at the kiss. She smiled down at Herpo, who had started worrying a second after his outburst whether he might have offended her and was accordingly relieved - even if she did pat his shoulder again in what was apparently meant to be a soothing gesture. "Well, _that's_ certainly going a bit far, but you're very welcome to it - Harry, would you show him how everything works? I can't imagine the plumbing would be quite familiar."

"Sure," Harry replied, while praying again for the existence of a translation spell. He hissed the translation of Mrs. Weasley's words to Herpo, adding on his own, "Come on, I'll show you around. Our baths are a bit smaller than the Greek ones, if I'm remembering right, but they're comfortable." He debated offering a hand, since Herpo still didn't look that steady, but decided against it based on the other wizard's reaction to contact thus far.

Herpo managed to make it to his feet unassisted by any party other than the table (he looked rather alarmed when the tablecloth reached up and patted his hand, and Mrs. Weasley glowered at the twins), though with enough difficulty that after her mother got out of the way _Ginny_ was found hovering at a slight distance with a hand out and the same encouraging smile as before. Herpo shook his head at her, but he managed to smile back this time, a little. "I _can_ walk," he said to Harry. "Really."

Harry laughed a little and replied, "It doesn't matter. They'll still want to help. Trust me, I've been around them enough when I was sick or hurt to know. It took a little getting used to, but they really mean well."

Herpo made what was clearly a deliberate effort to straighten his back. "I will admit," he said slowly, "that if it is this easy to... make it difficult for me to move now, I was wise to stay inside my cave." He took Ginny's hand, gingerly and rather briefly, and then let go of it again; she shrugged and fell back as Harry came up to lead him to the bath.

"Is it all right," Harry asked after a moment along the way, "if I ask what happened to your back? It must've been pretty bad if it's 'old' and still bothering you that much."

Herpo stiffened and said shortly, "A rock."

Harry remembered that Herpo had referred to thrown stones, and decided to use their arrival at the bath as a reason to drop the subject in favor of explaining the current state of wizarding plumbing, or at least the mildly eccentric Burrow version thereof.

He left Herpo settling into a state of somewhat incredulous ecstasy regarding the hot water, went back to the kitchen, and was very shortly sent back up with a set of robes, somewhat worn but clean and definitely warmer than what Herpo had turned up in. Night-robes, technically. Wizard and Muggle garments coincided remarkably in the area of nightclothes; these would probably pass without too much comment among Muggles, but really did seem to be a cross between a nightgown, a bathrobe, and regular wizarding day-robes, in a faded maroon that suggested they might have been originally intended for Ron.

"We thought you might want something else to put on - this is warmer, more comfortable here. I think it used to be Ron's; hope you don't mind."

Herpo picked up the cloth and muttered for a few moments in what had to be ancient Greek before remembering Harry standing there and actually blushed slightly. He inclined his head towards Harry and said in Parseltongue, "My apologies. I was observing how heavy the cloth is, but that is to be expected in such a cold climate. Thank you."

"Just be glad," Harry hissed drily on his way out, "that you managed not to show up in winter."

"This is _warm_!"

Harry wasn't sure how Herpo managed a strangled squeak in Parseltongue, but he did. And it sounded _very_ odd indeed. "Well, it _is_ evening. And it's not the hottest part of the summer just yet. But it's much warmer than it would have been if you'd been a few months off."

"Why would people _live_ in this country?" Herpo muttered.

"We're used to it," Harry told him mildly. "Don't worry. We won't let you freeze."

He returned to the kitchen to find Hermione's head in the fire. He also shortly discovered that as the Grangers didn't seem to be much for fireplaces, she had thrown Floo Powder into a floating Bluebell Flame, and kept ducking in and out of it while she hunted through books.

"Oh, hello, Harry. I _knew_ I'd seen instructions for a translation spell; I tracked it down a few minutes ago, but I'm trying to translate it."

Harry blinked. "I guess you've heard about our new visitor. But doesn't needing a translation for a translation spell sort of defeat the purpose?"

"That's how it works," Hermione explained absently, then paused to mumble to herself. "You know, the Iliad is not very helpful in terms of translating things... Odysseus would definitely have been a Slytherin though. Oh, thanks, Mum, this is much better - she studied Greek for medical etymology!"

There was a pause at this point, as Hermione was apparently writing something and looking things up. After a moment she began again, "Once you've done the spell, everyone included in it will be able to understand what any of the others say - while hearing it in the other language at the same time, _that's_ convenient, good for learning it properly." She paused again to write something else.

"But it has to be incanted simultaneously in both languages - the timing can be tricky, I suggest practicing it ahead of time to get an idea where each of you should be at what point in the other's speech. You see, you have to incant in the language you want translated - that's another reason to practice; you should check to see you're pronouncing it well. Ginny, you were good with Greek-derived spells..." Hermione laughed. "Or I could come over; I'd rather like to be involved at some point, though I'll be annoyed if I end up Petrified again."

"He doesn't seem to have brought any basilisks _with_ him," Harry pointed out logically. "And he was very upset over it." He shook his head. "I'm sure Ginny can manage the spell just fine, but you know we always like to see you again."

Hermione considered. "We got up _very_ early today; I was half asleep on my feet before I got interested in this. I'd have to make it a _very_ brief visit if I came this evening, and I'm sure he's met quite enough new people for one evening. If you think he wouldn't mind repeating the spell some other time I might come later... well, I suppose you could ask him, couldn't you?"

"He's having raptures over the hot water right now, but I doubt he'll mind. He doesn't seem to like people that much, but he likes them even less when he can't understand them."

"Oh, so if you asked _him_ he'd prefer I didn't show up at all?" Hermione laughed, then was caught in the middle of it by a yawn. "Ooh... I think I _had_ best leave visiting for another time. Let me just give you the incantation... Ginny? You'll want to be sure you can pronounce the Greek one properly. And you might want to get Harry to tell him the incantation in Parseltongue and ask him to _say_ it in Greek. It won't hurt anything to say it singly, or for that matter to get it wrong saying it singly."

"But it _will_ hurt to get it wrong saying it together?" Ginny asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

Hermione looked down for a moment. "Under most circumstances, no. It's possible to cause accidents mispronouncing any spell, of course, but if it's only a problem of timing and in the case of _most_ mispronunciations, it just won't work and will therefore be frustrating. The books says that one can generally feel the spell settling in if it's going properly, and there's generally warning enough to stop before you say anything disastrous."

"Well, that's a relief. I don't think it should be too bad at any rate. Looks simple enough." Ginny folded up the piece of parchment Hermione passed through the fire after a short study and put it in her pocket. "We should probably wait until Herpo is rested, though. He looked exhausted. Did he ever tell you why he was hurt, Harry?"

Harry shifted a bit. "A rock... thrown at him, I think. I didn't ask for details."

Ginny made a face. "Ouch. It seems pretty severe for it _still_ to be bothering him now. Do you think he'd let us take a look at it?"

"I... don't know," Harry said slowly. "It might be worth asking... a little bit later. It looked like it got worse when he was tense, before, and I don't think the suggestion would be very relaxing right now."

"Right. A nervous sort, isn't he?"

"It doesn't sound like things were very good for Parselmouths in his day. At least _I_ just got talked about behind my back."

"And in front of it!" Fred added brightly.

Harry couldn't help a snort of laughter at that, while Ginny glared at them. "Yes, that was - Ginny, don't glower, I know you didn't care for their approach but I was glad they thought it was ridiculous enough to joke about."

Ginny smiled wryly. "I suppose. But they're my brothers, and I can glower at them if I want to."

She stopped and looked up at the staircase, at that point; Herpo had just appeared, clad in Ron's old maroon nightrobes and looking decidedly uncertain, probably as to what was going on, where he was supposed to be, and why there was a head in the fireplace.

Hermione's view of the room apparently swiveled to include him, because she raised a hand into the flames to wave in a friendly way in his direction and call out an incomprehensible greeting before she ducked out of the flames and disappeared.

Herpo looked intrigued. "You have a voice in the flames who speaks my language?" he hissed to Harry. "Where did she go?"

Harry struggled not to laugh. "Er, that was my friend, Hermione. She just lives a ways away, so we communicate through the fire. She doesn't speak your language, but she's really smart. She probably knows a few phrases. She _did_ find a translation spell for us, though, so you can understand more people here than just me."

Ginny pulled out the parchment again and waved it in demonstration; Herpo blinked and decided to leave the fire-communication for a later time and consider the translation spell. The other Parselmouth did, he thought a bit wistfully, seem to have quite a number of friends. "Her name seems more normal than the others," he said. "Well... how will the translation spell be done?"

"According to Hermione, it has to be read simultaneously in the two languages you're trying to translate. Then you'll be able to hear in your own language while we speak in ours. Or something like that. But you have to be fluent in the language you're trying to translate to, so you'll have to read the English one and Ginny's going to try the Greek. We were hoping you could help us on pronunciation."

Herpo nodded hesitantly. "If you tell me what you are trying to say, I will tell you how to s-say it." The slight stutter at the end, a break in the hiss, gave way to a sneeze and sniffle.

Ginny offered another handkerchief wordlessly, glad that the sneeze hadn't led to gasps of pain this time. He smiled slightly in appreciation and blew his nose.

Harry replied diffidently, "We thought you might want to get some rest before trying it."

"Now would be fine... unless it is a very strenuous spell." Herpo cast Mrs. Weasley a cautious glance and added, "And if you think we could complete it before the very formidable hostess decides I _must_ be in bed?"

Harry grinned. "I think we can manage that. I think Hermione wrote everything out in Greek, so you could just read that for Ginny to get the pronunciation right, then we'll show you the English version. She said it wasn't too complicated once she figured it out."

The Greek version turned out to be essentially correct, though not pronounced exactly as Ginny would have guessed; Herpo pronounced (or nodded) her rendition correct on the third try. He frowned when she handed him the paper, though, and shook his head, starting to hiss again.

"_Oh._ You wouldn't be able to read it, of course, I'm sorry." She read it aloud to him instead; he imitated her carefully, if a bit sibilantly.

"Close. You've almost got it." She smiled encouragingly at him and repeated herself, slowly and carefully. They went through the same dance again of him imitating and her correcting until she finally nodded happily and said, "I think he's got it, Harry. Would you tell him..?"

"That's it. You two are supposed to say it in unison - I don't know how _exactly_ that works in different languages, but at least I'm sure you start and end at the same time." Harry peered at the paper as Ginny started 'round the room with her wand. "She has to mark everyone else to be included first... that's the only part that needs a wand though. Huh."

There were a few minutes of scrambling as those present called for those who weren't so everyone in the house could be included in the spell. Herpo stood aside with remarkable patience as Ginny finished marking everyone and came back to where the two Parselmouths stood. "All right, we'll start reading on 'three'," she told him while Harry translated. She held up her fingers and counted out, "One, two, _three_," then began to chant.

Rather to her surprise, Ginny found that not only had they both memorized the "nonsense" syllables in the course of pronunciation practice, but they must have started off well because the spell seemed to wrap around her mind and mouth, controlling the pace of her speech and settling both languages into a sort of odd not-rhythm so that it was much easier than she had expected to finish speaking at the same time.

They both fell silent and looked at each other afterwards; Ginny looked around the room and then back at Herpo and asked tentatively, "Well? Did it work?"

His eyes widened. "I know Harry explained it, but I still was not prepared to hear you speak my own language! I think it definitely worked."

That was rather hard to argue, as they all now heard English overlying his incomprehensible words. Ginny grinned delightedly. "It did! This _will_ make things easier."

And regardless of what these people acted like, Herpo did not like advertising that he was a Parselmouth so openly. No, this was all to the better. "You must thank your friend in the fire for me."

Harry laughed. "We will." He paused for a second to make sure he _was_ speaking English before adding, "You could thank her yourself, actually - she'll probably come over and visit soon. You wouldn't mind doing the spell again to be able to talk with her, would you?"

Herpo looked confused. "You mean she is not a fire elemental?"

"Er... no. That's just how the spell to talk with somebody at a distance looks." Harry floundered here, as he wasn't entirely sure how the spell _worked_.

"Oh." Now the Greek wizard looked disappointed. "I was impressed you had managed to befriend and train an elemental so well. No matter."

"I wasn't trying to be misleading..."

"Molly does have a point, though; you look tired," Mr. Weasley remarked rather gently. Herpo looked a good deal _better_ after the bath, but having his face clean only made the circles under his eyes more pronounced, and he did seem a bit wilted. "You needn't stay standing, you know."

"I am fine, thank you," Herpo said firmly, proving that stubbornness was far from a strictly British or modern trait.

Arthur paused for a moment and then tried again a bit more delicately. "That's very gracious of you, but it has been inhospitable of us to keep you on your feet so long already. Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable."

"...Very well," Herpo said after a short pause. He took a surreptitious look around the room, then quickly settled himself into the closest chair. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome." Arthur smiled faintly when some of his sons looked toward him, a little startled at the formal phrasing. "And I hope you'll forgive us - particularly my wife - if we fuss over you somewhat more than you may be used to. It's, ah, customary in this house... and I think you stir her maternal instincts as well."

There was hardly a gracious way Herpo could deny such a request from his host, so he braced himself internally and nodded. "Thank you, again. Your wife does you credit."

Molly returned from a trip into the kitchen looking strangely amused and bearing a tray with a bowl of soup. "There, now. We'll have you tucked in bed as soon as you please, but here's broth to keep you warmed up in the meantime."

Herpo still looked a bit dazed, but made no other response but thanking her and beginning to eat.

After nearly sneezing into his soup three times, however, Herpo was beginning to entertain suspicions that she had put something in it to make him more tractable about being put to bed. On the other hand, possibly the chill of the garden outside - much cooler than his cave, and _that_ hadn't been the warmest place, even if it was shelter and, almost more important, concealment - was catching up with him and making matters worse.

Or maybe it was the _twenty-five century_ misplacement in time. His poor beauties, left alone until hunger drove them out to die...

He felt another flash of anger at those who'd killed his poor darlings - whatever the Harry boy had said, he doubted it was entirely due to their actions. He _knew_ how much the villagers in the area hated him - but it was distant, almost tired. He could do nothing now for his beauties. But if what Harry said was true, some of them still existed, somewhere...

A massive yawn nearly split his face, making him dribble soup back into the bowl. He flushed slightly and tried to pay more attention to the conversation around him. He found Molly's eyes on him, though from a less alarmingly short distance. "_Would_ you like to get some rest now, dear?" she asked softly. "I've made up a bed for you."

"I...A bed would be...very nice," Herpo replied, after a short internal debate. He was a _guest_ here, as strange as that seemed. Surely there would be no harm in a night's rest...

Molly beamed upon him almost warmly enough to make up for this place's absurd climate and came over to remove the tray. "Let me just put this in the kitchen and I'll show you the way."

The uncomfortable thought occurred to him that he would probably be quite helpless if these people had _not_ apparently accepted him as a guest; even had he picked himself up out of the garden and escaped the strange biting creatures there, he would have no idea of the lay of the land or where to go to avoid people...

This was, he thought, likely to become a problem.

Well... perhaps tomorrow he could get some information from Harry and the fire-haired people... They would undoubtedly be supportive for anything that would get him out of their home sooner.

Maybe he could go looking for the descendants of his beauties.

He was briefly distracted by what seemed to be an inordinate number of stairs; he very nearly stumbled over his own feet and a step more than once and only realized how carefully the woman was watching him when he actually lost his balance and she startled him completely by catching him before he could fall on his face.

"Poor dear, nearly too sleepy to walk. I should have mentioned it sooner." She patted his shoulder and let go of his arm with the other hand. "There, are you all right now?"

He was certainly more awake, out of nerves if nothing else. "I...am fine, madam. Thank you." He gripped the banister much more carefully the rest of the way. "I hope I am not taking the bed from one of your own..."

"Oh, we have room, don't worry. We just rearranged things a bit. Now, you'll be in what used to be Bill's and Charlie's room, but they only come back to visit now. As for the bed itself, you'd be surprised how much stray furniture's about. We keep this one thinking it's an ottoman most of the time - but don't worry, of course it's clean now."

"...Ah. Of course." Herpo decided to just nod agreement and go along with the strange woman for now.

Molly ushered him into a cozy room and practically tucked him into the bed. "Sleep well, now. We'll see you in the morning." Privately, she resolved to send someone up with breakfast if he didn't get up too early for that. He could use the extra rest.

-

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Rabid Lola: Actually, the odd thing is, Drea is completely phobic about snakes! But all these Parselmouths are so gosh-darned cute, so she endures. ;) Voldemort is indeed dead, in whatever way JKR lays out in Book 7. This is for afterwards. Life moves on, after all. :)

Sleeping Dragons: Aww, thanks, we're fond of Herpo ourselves! While we're sure the chicken did nothing wrong, the Weasleys & co. would like to note that it was absolutely delicious. ;) Thanks for the review!

Dreamweaver: Tinderblast wrote a very short Herpo drabble quite a while ago, which is what inspired this fic. We tend to like fairly obscure characters. Glad you like them too!

Good Luck Kitten: As you can see, we're continuing a bit more. We're so glad you liked it so far, and thank you for letting us know! Enjoy the rest. :)

hey there: Thanks for the review. We hope this chapter meets your approval as well.


	3. Breakfast at the Burrow

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor any material profit is expected or intended._

**Herpetology  
by Andrea13 and PersephoneKore  
Chapter 3**

Warm. And soft.

Those were the first two thoughts that managed to penetrate the fog of sleep in Herpo's mind as he drifted back into consciousness. The ground beneath him was deliciously, wonderfully soft, as was the blanket wrapped around him. That was also warm, though even the air seemed to be warmer than it should be in his cave.

It took longer to penetrate that it was _too_ soft, too warm, and he was NOT in his cave.

His eyes snapped open. The blanket he clutched was not the usual ragged cloth he knew, but a thick, plush material he was unfamiliar with, colored in vibrant reds and golds. The air _was_ too warm, and belonged to some room that _should_ be wholly unfamiliar to him, but he gradually recalled the events of the previous day. He was in... Britain. Twenty-five (give or take) centuries in the future.

And there was a soft rapping at the door.

Ginny had awakened early and gone down to the kitchen to find her mother already busy, then been asked whether she'd mind taking breakfast up to Herpo before _he_ could get out of bed, and perhaps staying to eat with him, in an effort to keep him resting and perhaps make him more comfortable - with someone who _wasn't_ a Parselmouth. (And besides, it wouldn't be fair to make Harry play liaison now they had the language barrier lifted, would it?)

So it was the same girl who'd found him in the garden who opened the door when Herpo cautiously called out, "Yes?"

"Good morning." Ginny brought over the laden tray. "Mum sent me up with breakfast. Did you sleep well?"

"Better than in... a very long time," Herpo answered slowly, his nostrils twitching slightly at the scents wafting from the tray she carried. He tried not to look too hopeful as she approached.

Ginny gave him a smile that was friendly and, she hoped, not so sympathetic as to be taken for pity and give offense, and set the tray down on the bed - its short legs adjusted themselves hastily to keep the flat part level on the soft mattress - and took the cover off, surveying the crowded surface with amusement. "Well, she _did_ say she was sending up enough for two. Apparently she meant two of my brothers." The smile changed into a slight grin. "_Do_ you mind if I eat with you? It's fine either way, of course; it's just Mum didn't want to make you get up, but we thought you might like to have _some_ company."

"Of course not. I would be pleased to have your company. Though," he added with what might be a slightly shy smile, "I am still growing accustomed to your land. In my home, women do not eat with men."

Ginny blinked. "Oh, dear. Well, obviously we do here - and I've got six brothers, so it's strange for me _not_ having boys around - but I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Not uncomfortable. No more so than this whole experience," he amended with a small shrug. "I hope I am dealing with being transported so far from all I know or consider familiar well, but truthfully it is hard to tell." He shrugged again. "I did not mean to tell you to leave; only compare the differences."

"All right then." She smiled at him, then waved a hand at the tray. "Well... let's eat, shall we?" She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled one of the plates into her lap. "I imagine it must be very confusing."

"Extremely. No less so because...I have had little contact recently with people, even in my own land and time."

"Harry did mention that you'd... given him that idea."

He shrugged, taking a bite of some kind of toasted bread, judging it the most familiar. "Though it has clearly changed over time and distance, Parselmouths were... greatly mistrusted."

"A lot of people still think it's a sign of a Dark wizard," Ginny admitted slowly.

"...I should have known it could not have changed so much."

"It didn't help that the most recent Dark Lord to try to take over was one... Harry only just recently got rid of him for good." She smiled a bit. "And obviously _Harry_ isn't a Dark wizard. But the only other Parselmouths I know about are Salazar Slytherin - who lived a thousand years ago and helped Found our school, but he left - and of course you, and the ones who're in the textbooks as sources in the chapters on magical serpents."

She paused thoughtfully. "I've never heard anything bad about the ones in the textbooks. Unless you count that one of them snored, and I only know that because he said a Runespoor complained about it."

Herpo poked at his food for a long moment, not looking at his companion. Finally he asked in a low voice, still not looking up, "And what is it these books say of me?"

Ginny swallowed and set her fork down. "They describe how you created the first basilisks," she said, and thought about stopping there but didn't, "and say you set them on the nearby villages and countryside, and that after the basilisks were destroyed you were never found." Very quietly, she finished, "They list you as Herpo the Foul, and yes, they say you were a Dark wizard."

"The Foul," Herpo repeated flatly. "I have been called worse things. I suppose I should be glad it was so mild a name that lasted through the ages."

"...It seems bad enough to me."

"Then you should be grateful you have led such a charmed life," he snapped harshly.

"I spent my first year at Hogwarts trying to get out from V-Voldemort's control and being forced to attack my schoolmates if that makes you feel any better -" Ginny broke off and took a deep breath, biting down on her lip and wishing she could bite the words back from the air. "But it was my own stupidity that got me there," she said more quietly, "and you're right; I've been very lucky, overall. It still doesn't sound mild to me; you don't seem as if you deserve it. You don't seem... what I'd expect of a Dark wizard, either."

"You had friends to wish not to kill. They clearly did not turn you out after your actions. Not your own family, at least. That... is always something to be grateful for."

"I am." She swallowed again. "You... your family sent you away?"

"To speak with serpents is clearly a mark that one is a part of the evilest, most foul magics known. No matter that I have been what I am for as long as I can remember, and did not remember any great evil acts to grant it. I was cursed at birth, apparently. They did what any decent people would have."

Ginny shook her head mutely, feeling vaguely sick. She remembered that in old stories infants might be left out to die of exposure, though presumably Herpo hadn't been turned away quite _that_ young... She'd been half-wishing he would deny the charge of being a Dark wizard, but no matter what he had or hadn't done, if he'd been hearing that all his life was he really likely to? Or to expect her to believe him, maybe even after she'd talked about Harry? "No," she said softly. "I - I'm sorry."

A sharp jerk of the shoulder. "No matter. It is long-since done. I lived my life and tried not to attract attention from any. Sometimes I succeeded. Often I did not."

Basilisks, Ginny thought, seemed kind of attention-getting. Then again, they could be subtle if they kept out of, well, sight. "No wonder you looked at me like that in the garden," she said softly.

"And no wonder you all looked at me as you did when you discovered who I was," he replied glumly. "Herpo the Foul, under your own roof."

"...We were, um, surprised... but the thought had crossed my mind when you introduced yourself. You missed Fred's reaction, I take it - more fascinated than anything else..." She paused. "Well, Fred's a little strange." She hesitated, then put her plate back down and shooed the tray so that it walked out of her way and settled on Herpo's other side, then scooted a little closer and picked up his hand. It was _still_ clammy, though not as much. "You don't match your reputation," she told him quietly.

"Of course I do." He hissed something long and complicated, still not looking at her. "How would anyone see me as anything but Foul? Only my beauties...and they are gone."

"You don't. Most of it seems to be based on the idea that you deliberately sent them out to kill, for one thing. You haven't done anything particularly alarming here - well, not alarming in the sense of giving the impression you were going to hurt anyone; we were pretty worried _about_ you for a while," she said softly, then squeezed his hand slightly. "And did you forget we _didn't_ do a translation spell for Parseltongue, or did you just not want me to understand?"

"It doesn't matter what I said. It only matters _how_ I said it. That is all that anyone ever saw. Only my precious beauties could see past that, and it is apparently because of them I am known as Foul. But perhaps being known, even for evil, is better than being forgotten..."

Ginny shuddered - but didn't let go of his hand; he would probably expect her to. "I think... that's a dangerous way to think. And the only reason it matters to _me_ how you said it is because I couldn't understand you."

"You have been very kind to me, but I do not understand you either." He paused, then added softly, "_Especially_ because of that."

"I said _some_ people still think of it as the mark of a Dark wizard. I didn't say we did. I didn't think you'd think we did...unless you thought _we_ were Dark. There's a disturbing thought." She put her other hand over his. "And we've only done," she added wryly, "what decent people ought to do."

"I never thought you were Dark. You have been too kind for that. Although your mother is...the most formidable woman I have ever encountered," Herpo said with a slight smile. "Unusual, I did think you. But not Dark."

"Well, that's a relief." Ginny smiled back. "Mum is... definitely formidable. You spend enough time around the twins, and you'll know why she has to be." She glanced at the tray. "And she'd probably tell me I shouldn't be keeping you from eating."

"It smells so good it seems a shame to waste it," Herpo agreed, nearly smiling again. "My own cooking is not nearly as good. I had considered teaching my serpents to cook instead, but I doubt it would have been very effective."

"I would think," Ginny said, blinking at the rather bizarre mental image his words conjured up, "that the lack of hands might be a problem." Speaking of hands, she released his and slid out of the way so the tray could come back.

Herpo took advantage of the return of his hands to sample more of Molly's creations. He didn't have any idea what most of it was _called_, but that didn't detract from its taste. "I realize it would be difficult, but I enjoy... long projects." He looked away and took another bite. "I have little else to do."

"Er... you might, now. I don't think we can send you back, so... picking up modern languages might be more useful, long-term, than the translation spell..." She trailed off and shrugged. "Mum will be pleased you like her cooking."

"Languages. Yes, that _will_ be something to learn," he replied, brightening slightly.

Ginny couldn't restrain a giggle. "Sorry. It's just that you sound exactly like our friend, Hermione. She's never more excited than when you give her something new to learn about."

"Ah... she is the one I mistook for a fire elemental?" Herpo asked somewhat sheepishly.

"She'd probably be very amused by that..."

"Amused is better than offended, at any rate. And if your mother would be upset at your not letting me eat, doubtless she would also be that I prevent you from it." He waved his hands at the tray. "There is enough here for a minor horde, is there not?"

Ginny grinned and took her plate back. "My brothers _are_ a minor horde."

"How many siblings do you have, then? It sounds as if I have not met them all."

"Six older brothers. Bill and Charlie, the oldest two, aren't here, and Percy was busy and only came back down for the translation spell."

"You are the youngest, then, as well as the only girl?"

"Yes."

He nodded, and they ate for a time in silence. After a while, he asked, "Tell me truthfully, please - your mother's wish for me to remain here? Is that only for meals, or all times? I do not wish to offend."

Ginny blinked. "In bed, you mean? That's... until you feel better, really. You look like you do, now, but... well, last night you _did_ seem to be in a bad way."

"A small cold. It was nothing." He shook his head. "Your mother sent you here to watch me, however, yes?"

"No, to bring you food. But it didn't seem like it'd be very nice to bring it up and then leave you shut away in here, and she did think you ought to spend more time resting."

He laughed slightly and shook his head. His laugh was rather unusual - a strange combination of a hiss and a croak that said clearly he'd spoken only Parseltongue for too long and laughed rarely at all. "I see it will take me more time than I thought to grow accustomed to this place."

"I'm sure you'll manage." Ginny tilted her head. "Did you really think, after meeting Harry, that we'd... mistreat you?"

"...You have been very kind. I just thought you would be more...cautious."

"I... suppose we were a little wary, with the question of whether you might be a Dark wizard, but you... please don't take this the wrong way, but you didn't seem terribly threatening. And even if you _had_ been we certainly couldn't have just left you in the garden."

"You could have... removed me from your garden, without taking me into your home. Most would."

"...If you'd seemed like a threat, maybe we would have... called someone in. You didn't."

"You have my gratitude."

"You're welcome. I'm glad I saw you arrive, really."

"I am as well... It appears I was most fortunate in my landing area, if I had to be... misplaced." He smiled again, the motion starting to look slightly less alien. "So, tell me of this place I have found myself in."

Ginny blinked. "Well.. where do you want me to start? Britain, the Burrow...? We're near a town called Ottery St. Catchpole; it's mostly Muggle."

"All of them, or any of them. Since it seems I cannot return to my own time and place, it seems prudent to know as much as possible." He paused. "You say your town is mostly Muggle. Is it no longer common, then, for magical and non to live together?"

"Oh. Most wizards live _near_ Muggles, but we've been officially... secret, with exceptions for intermarriage or the families of Muggle-borns of course, for the past few hundred years. Most Muggles don't believe in magic any more, I think."

He laughed. "Not _believe_ in magic? One might as well not believe in the sun!"

"Well, yes, I don't really understand myself, but if they can't do it and never see it... or don't see it often and then pretend it's something else..."

"How strange." Herpo shook his head. "This...Burrow you mentioned, what is it?"

"This house." He gave her an odd look; she laughed. "Yes, I know, it's above ground. But our surname is Weasley, thus 'weasel,' and thus 'Burrow.'"

"Ahhhh. I have heard much stranger namings for one's home. So this is the Burrow and your family lives here... as well as the Parselmouth, though he is not family?"

"Harry... sort of lives here and sort of doesn't, right now. Well, he does, but he's getting ready to find a place of his own."

Herpo suddenly grinned. "So taking in stray Parselmouths is nothing unusual for your mother?"

Ginny couldn't help grinning back; he seemed much more relaxed now, especially if he was joking a bit about it - and for that matter his face, while still sharper-featured than any Malfoy's, looked a great deal more pleasant whenever he smiled. "Not really, no, at least allowing for the talent itself being unusual."

"That is a good thing, then. I am glad I landed with this family, then."

"We're glad to have you." She looked mischievous. "And that Harry was in at the time, or we might _still_ be gesturing at each other and looking confused."

He chuckled. "It is a unique method for communicating with ancient wizards, I will grant." He shook his head ruefully. "Though thinking of myself as an 'ancient wizard', much less one so famed you would know me all these years later, is still strange."

Basilisks were very memorable, but Ginny didn't want to set him mourning them again. "It's very strange for us too, but naturally not nearly as much. What on _earth_ were you doing to be thrown so far in time - if you don't mind my asking, that is?"

"As I said, I...have a great deal of time on my hands, and I enjoy projects. I was experimenting." He shrugged. "Successfully, apparently."

Ginny looked at him dubiously over a piece of buttered toast. "This isn't what you _meant_ to do..."

"I did not entirely _mean_ to do anything. I was...playing with some unusual magics. I wasn't entirely sure what they would do."

Ginny considered this. "Don't do it again, please."

"But if I did, I might be able to return home, and protect my beauties... Or I might kill everyone in the area. That is always a possibility." He frowned. "I shall not attempt it again."

"And I thought the twins' experiments could get dangerous," Ginny said weakly.

"Your brothers are experimenters, then? What kind of experiments do they do?"

"They're practical jokers and keep inventing new ones. If _they_ bring you food, don't eat it."

Herpo looked somewhat alarmed. "I will keep that in mind..."

"Oh, don't be too upset if they do catch you; I don't think there's anyone here they _haven't_." Ginny omitted to mention her own escapades. "And the Canary Creams are really rather fun."

"What do the Canary Creams do?"

"Turn whoever eats them into a giant canary. It wears off in a little while."

Herpo blinked. "Are you serious?" When she nodded, he laughed. "I should like to see that. Perhaps not _experience_ it, but..."

"It's not particularly uncomfortable; I'll demonstrate sometime if you want. I sing better that way, even if George throws things at me for saying so."

Herpo's eyes flashed. "He should _not_ be throwing things at you."

Ginny sat back a bit, her own eyes widening with startlement. "I didn't mean anything to _hurt_... Little things. Or cushions."

"...Oh." Herpo grumbled a bit under his breath and took another bite of some unidentifiable food product. "He still should not do it," he muttered.

"It's... a compliment of sorts. He doesn't think I should say I don't sing well normally," she offered cautiously.

Herpo poked viciously at his food with the fork. "This is your time and your family. You would know better than I what to tolerate."

"The bacon," she told him mildly after watching him attack his meal a few more times, "is already dead." When he started to glance up at her and then returned his gaze sharply to the tray, she frowned a bit and turned to put a hand over his blanketed foot, dropping her own eyes. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "people throwing things has been more serious for you, hasn't it."

"It does not matter."

"Of course it does."

"Why?" The tone of the question was hostile, but the expression in his eyes - which he tried to keep shuttered - was not.

Ginny half-shook her head; she'd come to watch faces very carefully, ever since the diary, and the way Herpo was looking at her (and trying hard not to) made her want to hug him. "Because... it does. Because you were hurt."

"I never said that," he snapped.

Ginny thought back quickly. "...No, you didn't."

"Then why do you say it?"

She turned a bit of egg over with her fork. "I can't imagine that it wouldn't hurt, one way or another, to have people hate you enough to call names and throw things at you. Especially as many as it sounds like there were. And... I'd be surprised if they never hit."

"...Ah." He was silent for a long moment, eating the...bacon, she'd called it. "I'm sorry, I should not have shouted."

"It's all right. I shouldn't have upset you - though I didn't mean to, either." She patted his foot through the blanket again, then went back to her meal. After a slight hesitation, she asked, "Herpo... why did _you_ think I said it?"

"...You have been nothing but kind since I met you. I should not have shouted at you."

"I _told_ you, that's all right."

He shrugged.

"And I should have thought more before I spoke. So I'm sorry too."

"Please stop apologizing," Herpo said in a pained voice. "You did nothing wrong. I assumed motives for you which clearly did not exist."

"I suppose I'm prying, but... what were they?"

He shrugged once again. "The usual. Cruelty and malice."

Ginny winced. "I was thoughtless, obviously. I didn't mean to be cruel."

"As I said, I ascribed motives to you which apparently did not exist. You have been nothing but kind. I apologize." He sighed and poked at his food some more. Finally he said softly, "Yes, I was hurt. Not so often physically. I was good at dodging, except when I was young."

As he _still_ didn't seem particularly old - not older than her brothers, at least - this was a rather depressing statement.

"You still are young, I thought..." Maybe not by the standards of his time, though. "At least, there _is_ a reason Mum keeps... mothering at you."

"Young in body, perhaps," he replied ruefully. "Not in spirit."

Ginny sighed and gave him a rather sad smile. "I didn't start out trying to bring up unpleasant memories," she said after a moment, "but... may I ask you something else?"

"...If you like. I... may not answer."

"That's fair." She set her empty plate aside and bit her lip. "Was... something thrown what caused the 'old injury' that Ron accidentally ran into last night?"

A pause, in which Herpo finished up the last few bites of his own meal and sent his plate to join Ginny's. Then, "Yes. A rock. It still pains me sometimes." Another pause, then he smiled slightly. "The injury, not the rock."

She nodded. "If it's still bothering you it must have been an especially bad hit..."

"It...was not pleasant, no. I survived it."

"Obviously." Get to the point, she thought sternly to herself. "I was wondering, as well, if you'd be willing to let someone here look at it. You don't have to answer right away, of course - but if you want to think about it... there might be something we could do to help. I don't know, of course."

"I am a fairly good healer in my own right. Of necessity," he added with a tinge of bitterness. "I have dealt with it as much as it can be."

"I'm sure you are - but that's 'as much as it can be' by yourself, presumably while you were distracted by the pain, in an awkward spot, and quite a long time ago. There _have_ been some new healing spells and potions invented since."

He smiled slightly. "I suppose...there have been many changes I have not thought of. If...it would not be too much trouble..."

"It wouldn't. It _was_ our idea, after all."

"...Very well. Again you are kinder to me than I deserve."

Ginny shook her head at him. "Not really. We..." She stopped, looking at him closely, and then asked with a wince, "Oh, Herpo. You _don't_ believe what they said about you, do you?"

He frowned at her. "What?"

Ginny seriously considered biting her tongue very hard before the ease of using it got her into any more trouble. Feeling rather foolish, she explained falteringly, "I'm... sorry. It's just that... some of the things you say... sound as if you at least halfway believe the... the insults."

He looked at her with no expression and said flatly, "They say I am evil. You say I am the Foul. For what? Speaking to snakes and raising my beauties. Both, I am guilty of."

Ginny looked down at her hands for a moment. "It's not... I'm probably not very objective about basilisks, but it was supposedly attacking people with them, not having them at all, that... that you've been blamed for in the histories." She raised her eyes. "But _I'm_ not going to call you that; and talking to snakes is - fine. It doesn't mean you deserve... stones and harsh words."

He shrugged. "Who is to say?"

"You don't," she repeated quietly.

"Things here are different," he said dismissively.

"I can't argue with _that_, but it doesn't mean you deserved it then either."

He shrugged. "Enough. I have eaten, I am rested. May I now leave this room?"

Ginny did bite her tongue this time, but her shoulders slumped just a bit as she pushed off the edge of the bed to stand up and pick up the tray. "Of course, if you want to. There are slippers beside the bed."

"Thank you." He stood - somewhat shaky, but only for a moment - and slipped on the odd footwear she referred to. Then he hesitated, and at last looked back at her. "Now I find I am not sure where to _go_," he confessed.

"I suppose that depends on what you want to _do_... probably everyone will be in and out of the kitchen and living room for a while..."

He nodded. "Excellent. And the..living room? This is the room I was in last night?"

"Yes, that's it."

"Excellent." He paused, then asked hesitantly, "And you will come as well?"

"Sure." Ginny remembered to smile again and decided she must not have offended him _too_ badly. "I don't really want to spend all day in _my_ room, either."

"Good." Herpo held the door open for Ginny, as her hands were full of the tray, and followed her down the stairs.

-

__

Jaquelyne: Thanks! Glad you enjoyed those lines, and we hope you'll keep reading.

Pwykersotz: We're glad you like the writing. The plotline of "Herpetology" is essentially Herpo's introduction to the late twentieth century and the Weasley family - not exciting, perhaps, but it was fun to explore. On the other hand, we've gotten to some interesting places before by "letting an odd situation happen." :) Though we generally wait until we've gotten there before we start posting.


	4. A Little Overwhelming

**Herpetology  
by Andrea13 and PersephoneKore  
Chapter 4: A Little Overwhelming**

Herpo, looking bewildered and somewhat hunted, paused for a moment at the base of the stairs as the light and babble of voices from the Weasleys scattered around the room swept over him. But then he visibly shook himself, straightened his shoulders, and entered.

"Hey, there he is." One of the twins waved in Herpo's general direction. "And Ginny. I thought you'd slept in, Ginny."

"No," Ginny replied cheerfully, "you did. Back in a minute." She ducked into the kitchen with the tray.

"Good morning," Herpo offered quietly, quickly sliding into the nearest unoccupied seat. "Your sister was very hospitable."

"Didn't put her elbow in the butter, did she?" George asked brightly.

"I HEARD THAT!" Ginny emerged from the kitchen glaring at her brother and somewhat pink in the face.

"...I did not think elbows belonged in the butter," Herpo said slowly, looking between George and Ginny. "But I am still growing accustomed to this place."

George snickered. "They don't."

Ginny, still quite pink, explained quickly, "When I was _much_ younger, I was nervous once during a meal and put my elbow in the butter. And they have _never_ let me forget it."

Ginny glared at all her brothers equally.

Herpo looked cautiously around the room and decided not to ask the cause of her irritation. If he found out, he didn't wish to be blamed for it.

"She was eleven," Fred confided.

Ginny sighed, went to grab a book, and flopped full-length on the floor. It was hardly the silliest thing she'd done that year, after all. "Yes, I was. See, Herpo, unfortunately my brothers are impossible to embarrass. Well, those two, anyway."

Herpo, for his part, wasn't entirely sure what to reply to that, so he just coughed and looked at the floor. Family dynamics confused him even when he _was_ a part of a family.

"Just ignore them," Ginny advised. "Say, Fred, that reminds me do you have a spare Canary Cream?"

Fred gave her a peculiar look. "It takes all the fun out of it if you _warn_ people about them first, you know."

"I promised I'd show Herpo how I could sing better," she replied with a bright smile.

"Oi! Stop that." George looked around and lifted a hand, then arrested the motion and grinned. "You can have the Canary Cream if we get to explain about the butter."

Ginny eyed him.

"Or," he offered generously, "if _you_ explain about the butter."

She sighed, pressed her lips together, then dropped her head over her book again and said coolly, "Harry was here for the first time and I fancied him." There was a pause. Then she lifted her head, eyebrows up, and said, "Now _give me that Canary Cream_."

George, still looking somewhere between startled and let down, suddenly grinned and tossed it to her.

"Thank you," she replied and calmly bit into it. In seconds, she had sprouted an impressive array of feathers as bright red as her hair.

Herpo choked slightly, then leaned forward to look more closely. "This...what an incredible spell! You are very talented."

"Why thank you," Fred replied. Ginny propped herself up, tweeted a couple of times and then burst into a few seconds of song before settling back into human form.

Herpo applauded. "Magnificent."

Ginny laughed, still a bit flushed. "Thanks."

"Do I want to know _why_ you particularly wanted to be a canary today, Ginny?" Ron asked warily.

She waved a hand. "I'd told Herpo about the Canary Creams and he was curious."

"He could still try them," George offered generously, still grinning. "We have more. Or you could try our Bunny Buns instead. Our newest product, lots of fun."

"Ah...thank you. Perhaps later."

"Sounds like the two of you spent a lot of time talking," Ron said, looking between his sister and Herpo suspiciously. "What is it with you and Parselmouths?"

Herpo tensed. Actually, Ginny noted with some alarm, he stiffened to the point of looking on the verge of Petrification himself. She looked questioningly at him for a second, then shrugged at Ron. "I took him breakfast. No, I did not spill it on him."

"So you were all alone with him, in his bedroom, for... how long was it?" Ron grinned teasingly at their guest. "Should I be telling you to keep away from my sister?"

"If I had a problem I'd tell him myself, Ron," Ginny purred at her brother.

Herpo stiffened even further, which Ginny would have sworn was impossible a few moments ago. "I should go," he blurted out abruptly.

Ron gave him a perplexed look. "You should? Where?"

"...Away."

"He's just teasing, Herpo," Ginny said, trying to sound casual instead of concerned. "Fair warning if you try to duck out when they get started, they _will_ keep trying it."

"There is no need to keep trying anything. I would never I would not they should not worry about you."

"They aren't really. Ron was _teasing_. Mostly teasing me, in fact, not you."

Herpo managed to look both tense and flustered at the same time. "I... do not wish them to think..."

"They don't." Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Not that it'd be any of their business anyway..."

"They are your brothers. As such, it is their duty to protect and care for you."

She sighed. "Only if I actually need the help."

"It is not for you to decide. Your brothers and father have their duty."

Ginny blinked at him several times. "...Different culture," she said firmly. "We don't have arranged marriages, although this does not seem to stop _certain people_ from interfering anyway."

"Hang on, Ginny, I think I like Herpo's idea!" Fred interrupted with a grin. He puffed his chest out a bit and said importantly, "You should really listen to use more, since we're just doing our duty to defend your honor and all."

"I don't need any help, thank you, Fred," she replied between gritted teeth.

"But we have to protect and care for you," George added. "I suppose we should start by keeping you away from Parselmouths, since you obviously have a weakness."

"GEORGE!"

Herpo seriously considered trying to flee inconspicuously, guest or not, but this course of action was made problematic by the fact that Ginny had leapt to her feet and was standing directly in front of his chair while glaring furiously at her brother. Before she could say anything, another, slightly drowsy voice broke in. "Do I want to know what he did?" Harry asked mildly from the stairs. "And is it likely to interfere with breakfast?"

"I don't think Mum's let him near the rest of the food," Ginny said in a remarkably calmer tone.

"You have a rival for Ginny's affections," Fred explained gleefully.

"He does not!" Herpo protested frantically, trying to sink into his chair since he couldn't seem to _leave_. "I would never not that she is not admirable, but I I would never _dream_" His face was growing steadily redder. "Harry, please, if she is yours, please believe I would not"

"Um," said Harry. "Stop it, he's not used to you. Herpo, I obviously missed something, but I really doubt anybody's seriously accusing you of anything."

"I've offended her brothers," Herpo hissed in Parseltongue. "They think I seek Ginny's affections. I tried to explain, but..."

"Don't explain," Harry hissed back, obligingly dropping into the serpents' language as well and trying not to sound _too_ amused in the face of Herpo's obvious agitation. Actually, it was rather sobering. "Look, it's all right. They're not offended, they're not upset, and they probably don't really think that at all, though you never know."

"But why would they say it? II should never have spoken to her. No man would want me near his sister!"

"Would've been awfully rude if you hadn't, actually."

At this point Harry was interrupted by Fred's asking in mock irritation what the point of the translation spell had been if they were still going to leave everybody else out of secret conversations.

"Well if _certain_ people wouldn't tease people who are from ancient Greece and don't _know_ when you're teasing, he wouldn't have to ask Harry in private, would he?" Ginny snapped. "Honestly, I don't know how I put up with all of you sometimes!"

"We're your brothers and you love us," George proposed with an expression presumably intended to be endearing.

Harry sighed and finished his hiss. "And we're not promised to each other, for that matter. She, ah, fancied me when she was younger and they haven't stopped kidding about it since."

"Then...they say things they do not mean? To anger _her_?" Herpo hissed doubtfully, sneaking a look at Ginny as she practically spat fire at her brothers. He shook his head. "I wonder if I will ever understand this place..."

"You get used to them... eventually. I think right now she's mostly angry on your behalf."

"Perhaps," Herpo suggested tentatively in translated English again, "Harry could have his breakfast now? I will say nothing more..."

"_You_ can talk all you want," Ginny said, turning away from her brothers and then folding down to the floor again. "You haven't done anything."

"Of course." Herpo settled back in his chair and tried to look inconspicuous.

"Er... Herpo?" Ron said after a moment. Apparently he wasn't inconspicuous _enough_. "I really was kidding you. I didn't think you'd... er... done anything for her to object to."

Herpo ducked his head. "I am still learning," he said simply. "I am not used to...kidding."

"Right. Well. Should've thought of that. Sorry." Ron gave him a worried look. "You all right over there?"

"Fine, thank you." Herpo drew his borrowed robes around him more tightly and wondered what it would take for someone to change the subject from his stupidity...

"Right then." Ron paused, then after a moment added, "Now mind you, you probably _are_ a little old for her..."

"RON!" Ginny protested again as Herpo turned red.

"This is... kidding again?" he asked weakly.

Ginny sighed. "Yes." She briefly entertained the idea of announcing that if they kept it up she was going to have to kiss either Herpo or Harry, but came to her senses quickly and realized that this would only encourage them. She coughed a bit. "Technically true, maybe, but not really relevant."

"Is there any way to tell the difference? So I know when to laugh and when to duck?"

"You are _not_ going to have to duck."

He shrugged. "It is still good to know."

"We'll give you fair warning," George offered kindly, "if we're ever actually angry with you."

"...Thank you."

"As far as we know, you _haven't_ done anything to object to," Fred added cheerfully. "Of course, if there's something you'd like to tell us..."

"I do not know what you would find objectionable," Herpo hedged. Since apparently _this_ family didn't find any of the things objectionable that others did.

Fred laughed. "Nothing too unusual, far as I know."

"I think I would dearly love to see one of you transported to my home time and see how well you would handle it," Herpo replied with a twisted smile. "I do not mean to be slow, even so."

Fred looked at him sharply, then shook his head. "Fair enough, that. Nobody said you _were_ being slow, though, and it's not as if we're going to hold not knowing things about our time against you no way you could just don't expect us to think of all of them ahead of time to tell you." He grinned suddenly. "Anyway, if we _could_ think of all of them ahead of time, we'd probably know your time well enough to do all right after all."

Herpo smiled more naturally now. "A good point and, as you say, fair enough." Herpo settled back in the chair once more. "Has any thought been given to what I am to do here? I do not wish to burden your hospitality."

Fred blinked. "You just _got_ here."

"Well, yes, but..."

"Sorry, I guess the answer would be 'no, not yet.'" Fred shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Unless you mean you're bored?"

"I am accustomed to having...some task. I take it from what Ginny has told me of my reputation that breeding my beauties again would be...ill-advised. I would like to learn your language properly, but..."

"The language we could work on. The basilisks, er, might not go over very well. I don't know where you'd put them... aren't they rather large?"

Herpo blinked. "Slightly larger than an average snake, perhaps, but not overly so. Mine were still young, of course."

"The giant one was supposed to be several hundred years old," Ginny said in an odd tone. "It could hardly have started out that large from a chicken's egg."

"Several hundred years? I had no idea they could live so long!" Herpo exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "How large did it grow?"

Ginny shrugged a bit sharply. "I don't remember."

"Twenty or thirty feet long, a couple of feet in diameter," Harry said in a detached voice. "It was supposed to be around a thousand years old, but I didn't exactly get around to asking it. It was attacking students, you know."

"But... wouldn't it have listened to you if you told it to stop?"

"I doubt it. It was being directed by Voldemort, sort of, and around the end it wasn't listening to _him_ much either."

Herpo sighed sadly. "They were not so violent by nature. They would defend themselves, but not attack. Until, it seems, they were driven to it. I should have protected them better."

There was a pause as most of the room tried to digest the idea of a basilisk being in need of protection. Ron finally broke it with, "Do we really want to know _how_?"

Herpo blinked at him. "How what? To protect them? That is simple not to have abandoned them to fend for themselves as mere children, to leave them with no recourse but to go to hunt when they did not know the difference between populated lands and open. To keep them from those who would fear them only because of what they were."

"I hate to tell you this," Ron said slowly, "but there's a _reason_ most people are scared of something that literally kills you if you look at it the wrong way. And you have _got_ to meet Hagrid."

"They needed protection!" Herpo retorted fiercely.

Ron frowned. "Wouldn't the fangs have Hermione!" He abandoned the sentence and popped to his feet as the fire flared up.

"Hello! Is this a good time?"

"Course it is. Come on over."

Hermione's head disappeared from the fire, and seconds later the flames turned green and she stepped out clutching (to the surprise of no one who knew her) several large books, just as Ron was finishing up with "I was saying, wouldn't the fangs have done it?"

"There are easy ways to avoid fangs in other snakes. The stare is more difficult," Herpo told Ron proudly, then stood up and bowed slightly to Hermione. "Greetings, lady."

Hermione nodded to him over her books and _very_ carefully tried a greeting in Greek, then added in English, "Do you think we could start with the translation spell? I know whatever he said first had snakes in it but that's really about all... and not exactly surprising."

"Oh, right," Ginny said quickly, jumping to her feet. "I'd forgotten. I'll just go get the copies of the incantations." She disappeared through the doorway.

"But I..." Hermione stopped and shrugged as Ginny disappeared. "Brought them. Oh well. Ron, what are we talking about? Obviously I arrived in the middle of something..."

"How the ickle basilisks need protecting from the harsh world, apparently."

Herpo frowned at Ron.

"Well," said Hermione, blinking and carefully setting her books down on the table with a sigh of relief, "that's unique."

"What did she say?" Herpo asked the nearest Weasley.

"Just that, er, it's a unique perspective," George replied.

Ginny hurried back in, waving two pieces of parchment. "I have them. Herpo, you'll just need to read this with Hermione this time, so you two can understand each other."

"Could we check my pronunciation first?" Hermione asked quickly. Ginny 'translated' and Herpo listened obligingly while Hermione rattled off the incantation in ancient Greek and then gave him an anxious look.

"Your vowels should be a little longer, but very good," Herpo told her with warm approval, then repeated the incantation for her correctly. Hermione listened with her brow furrowed, then repeated it again. Herpo smiled broadly. "Perfect."

"She _would_ get it that fast," Ron said with amusement. "I bet if we left them around each other for two weeks they'd both be fluent, and never mind the spell."

For the sake of efficiency, however, they performed the translation spell, which behaved itself perfectly.

"There we are," Hermione said once it had taken hold. "I'm Hermione Granger, and it's very nice to meet you. Now could you please explain about protecting basilisks?"

Herpo blinked a little, but was starting to take these people's oddities in stride now, so he simply shrugged and replied, "Harry told me of how my poor beauties were killed after I...disappeared. Had I been there, it would never have come to such an end."

"Oh... so they didn't hunt people as long as you were there to ask them not to?"

"Why would they hunt people? People are not a very good food source unless there is little alternative. They ate as all snakes do. They only would hurt people if they came to our cave uninvited."

Hermione privately resolved not to take up spelunking, and shrugged. "Well, no, I suppose not if they start out small enough to hatch from a chicken's egg, but that _is_ rather what they're famous for. So they were guards?"

"Guards... friends. They were mine."

Hermione tilted her head. "Is that why you made them? To have someone to talk to?"

"Snakes are better companions than people," Herpo said harshly.

Hermione blinked and sat back a bit, then said lightly, "I suppose I can't be offended; I used to say the same about books."

Herpo blushed a bit. "Better than the people I knew, I should say. Everyone here has been very kind."

She grinned. "Now that's no surprise."

"Better, for certain, than I would have been had one of you appeared in the middle of my cave. I _am_ grateful. And pleased to meet you, since I appear to have skipped that step."

"Well, I sidetracked you asking questions... I'm sorry if I overdid it?"

"No, I do not mind. I have been expecting far more questions than I have been asked thus far, at any rate."

Hermione's eyes glinted. "I bet I could make up for that."

Ron started laughing. "I think you should run, mate."

Herpo glanced at him uncertainly; Ginny clapped a hand over her eyes and protested, "She's not _that_ bad."

"Oh, thank you _so_ much, Ginny. What a vote of confidence," Hermione put in drily.

"Oi, Ginny, I'm allowed to make fun of her. _You're_ not." Ron winked at Herpo. "More teasing, don't worry. Hermione's the smartest witch in our class. She'll ask you questions all you want."

"I made a list, actually... but of course you can tell me to stop if you like..."

"No, that will be fine. There are many things I would like to know as well, so perhaps your questions will provide a good starting point."

"That would be good," she agreed. "Of course you can still tell me to drop a subject if you like I'm afraid I'm not very strong on tact even in a culture I'm familiar with."

Herpo grinned. "You are honest, which is important above all. Ask your questions. I will answer what I can."

She started off with the processes of hatching, feeding, and generally caring for basilisks, which seemed to be a safe enough topic as long as it didn't involve demonstrations. The first one that gave him pause, however, was "Why a cave?"

"Because...I needed shelter, a place to live and raise my beauties in peace. It could not be among people. They would not understand and would try to hurt my beauties. And I...was not welcome among them at any rate," he confessed, not quite looking at her. "I have no talent for building things, so a cave seemed the best option."

"Oh. ...I see." She looked down at her list, having gone merrily along from memory and adding things suggested by the conversation and thereby lost her place.

"If I may ask a question of my own?" Herpo suggested when Hermione seemed to have paused. "You mentioned one of my beauties being at your school for magic? Do you know any about why it was there, or who raised her?"

"Well... the legend is that when one of the four Founders of our school, Salazar Slytherin, left over the question of whether to admit Muggle-born students he left it... ah... her? ... in a secret chamber somewhere in the school, to be brought out eventually by his Heir and rid the school of the students he considered unsuitable. Even the existence of the chamber was dismissed by most people as only a story, for quite some time, and no one seemed to know what 'Slytherin's monster' actually was although it wasn't terribly surprising that it turned out to be a type of serpent; I think quite a few people guessed it would."

"Like you," Ron put in with a grin. "Hermione's the one who figured the whole thing out first when the basilisk started attacking."

"Attacking children?" Herpo looked dismayed. "This Salazar must have been horrible..."

"The other three must have seen _something_ in him," Hermione said, "but sometimes it's hard to imagine what. His House is... not exactly made up of the easiest people to deal with."

"He has students, then, still at this school? I thought the basilisk was many centuries old..."

"It was...well, as far as anyone knows, and I _did_ get a glimpse of it,"she noted wryly, "Although not exactly an extended one for obvious reasons. I can imagine it would have taken that long to grow so large. But there are four Houses to the school; we're Sorted by...character and priorities, I suppose, based on what each of the Founders wanted in their students."

"Ahh. That is an intriguing means of schooling. Though I confess, the idea of a _school_ for magic is... incredible."

"Well, that's what I thought at first, but I suspect for wildly different reasons." Hermione grinned.

Herpo looked puzzled. "How do you mean? Are you from a different land as well?"

"No, Muggle-born. I didn't know magic was real before I got the letter from Hogwarts."

He shook his head slowly. "They had told me of these 'Muggles' who did not even believe magic was real, but... I never thought to meet one."

"Just to clarify the terminology, 'Muggle' is technically someone who can't _do_ magic, whether they know about it or not but I would've been assumed to be one, generally, until it started showing up, I suppose." She looked amused. "There's probably some irony here in the amount of credit Greek thought gets for the thought processes that went toward explaining everything by science when Muggles started thinking like that and wizards started elaborately hiding the use of magic, the two kind of fed on each other."

Herpo snorted. "The only ones who thought that way were those with no abilities of their own. They sought logical explanations to everything, when magic was far simpler."

"But I hardly think the majority of phenomena can be attributed directly to magical intervention, so it makes no sense to " Hermione paused and then propped her head on one hand and started laughing.

The Greek wizard blinked at her a few times, then turned to look imploringly at Ginny. "I still do not understand this humor..."

"I'm not sure I do either," Ginny said truthfully.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said in a rather strangled tone. "It was just... something about realizing what I was arguing, and with whom, and... this does not make a lot of sense, so don't worry about it."

"I realize I am...somewhat infamous to you in this time, but I did not think I was laughable..."

"Er, no. It's more... I seem to end up defending science to wizards or magic to Muggles well, my parents at least no matter which way I turn, so that I've frequently felt it was almost everyone I meet. And I suddenly felt very silly about starting the same thing with a Greek wizard from centuries ago... I'm sorry. I'll try to carry on a sensible conversation now."

"Ahh." Herpo nodded wisely. "I shall try to avoid questioning your Muggles, then. Do you have more questions?"

"Oh, you can, I didn't mean _that_!" Hermione sounded vaguely appalled and definitely alarmed at the idea that she'd discouraged him from asking anything.

"I believe I have enough questions for now simply about the magical world. But you have more questions?"

"Well, yes, but "

"But the fact that he's put up with them this long is practically a miracle?" Ron suggested brightly. Hermione threw a quill at him; she had started taking notes somewhere around the proper feeding of an infant basilisk, which was worrying Harry no end.

"I do not mind," Herpo said graciously.

"No, you're not here to be interrogated," Ginny told him with another bright smile.

"I _was_ actually going to say that I thought we could probably leave the rest for later," Hermione said ruefully, "but nobody's going to believe me now."

"I will believe you," Herpo offered. "But what, then, were you going to suggest?"

"Er... nothing in particular, just that I should probably stop monopolizing you. And maybe a glass of water?" She looked hopefully at Ron, who grinned and showed off a Summoning Charm to the benefit of both sides of the interrogation.

"There are clearly many magical advances I need to catch up on," Herpo sighed. "Perhaps I need to be applying for this school of yours."

"Ah... they only take students between the ages of eleven and eighteen, actually," Hermione said apologetically. 'But I'm quite sure there would be some other way to catch up if you like." She hesitated. "I could help with some things, I suppose but I have _no_ idea what you do and don't know already, aside from the basilisks.'

"Unfortunately, neither do I. As... one of the identical ones said earlier, if I already knew the problems, I would not need help discovering them."

Hermione considered this. "Well, can you give me a basic idea of what you do know how to do, and vice versa? Though I suspect it might be more awkward for you, since I was taught most of it all in neat categories..."

"...It is hard to sum up one's complete magical knowledge. I know...many healing spells, many shielding ones. I never recieved formal training such as you have. I am mostly self-taught, so it is hard to say."

_Healing and shielding. So much for our latest 'Dark wizard.'_ There was of course the theoretical possibility that he was lying, but if so he was very good at it, and after all the history books had been remarkably conscious of their own vagueness about him. "Hmm... well, between that and the fact that if you experiment you've no doubt created some spells I've never heard of, and maybe some that aren't known, I'm not really surprised it's hard..." She ran through a list of her own classes at Hogwarts, then shrugged. "I honestly wouldn't know where to start except at the beginning, and you'd have to put up with telling me what was too basic until we got somewhere reasonable. ...Would you be willing to teach me, too? ...If you wanted to work with me at all, that is. I'm sure you could find someone more knowledgeable and certainly a more experienced teacher."

"I would be happy with anything you could teach me."

"Hermione," Ginny spoke up suddenly, "is there a kind of translation spell for written languages too? Because if we could get it to where he'd understand it, we could just give him a Standard Book of Spells or something and get a basis from there."

Hermione lit up. "Of course! Though for reasons I haven't had a chance to get into, it tends to be viewed as less useful than the conversational one... I don't know it though, let me look it up."

"You have _books_ to teach magic?" Herpo asked. "Perhaps a history text could be included?"

"Excellent idea," Hermione said absently from the depths of a spellbook.

"Don't worry, she'll pay attention to us again once she's found the spell," Harry advised Herpo, grinning. "She tends to get sort of involved."

Hermione shot Harry a dirty look over the top of the book.

"I think she is paying more attention than you... pretend to think." This guess at the dynamic was rewarded with a bright and entirely unrepentant half-grin from the other resident Parselmouth as the previous half of the grin had been directed at Hermione.

"Found it!" Hermione announced triumphantly. "I _knew_ I'd come across it when I was searching for the other translation spell. It looks simple enough." She started scribbling on a piece of parchment, then finished with a flourish and blew on it a bit to dry. "It's a very simple incantation, but you'll have to say it over each new text, I'm afraid. Although I suppose that's impetus to learn the language on your own," she finished impishly. Hermione handed the scrap of parchment to Ginny, adding, "Ginny can read you the incantation whenever we find you the books you want. All right?"

"Thank you. I am again in your debt," Herpo told her with another small bow.

"Oh, not at all, this is fun." She beamed at him.

Herpo shook his head. "I think my translation spell must be malfunctioning. Surely you could not have just called this 'fun'."

Hermione blinked. "Whyever not?"

"Trying to find odd spells to solve obscure problems from a time-displaced Dark wizard? You have a very strange notion of fun."

"Trying to find odd spells to solve obscure problems is always fun, especially when it's not also life-or-death how _fast_ I find one." She paused. "And _are_ you a Dark wizard, really?"

Herpo shrugged. "That is my reputation, is it not? In my own time as well as this one. What does it matter?"

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "you don't _seem_ to have any ambitions to kill, torture, or mind-control people, put them into potions for nefarious purposes, or take over the world. I suppose I could be wrong, of course, as I don't know you particularly well, but it _would_ rather matter if you did. _I've_ been going by the fact that the books are for reasons that recently became a lot more obvious self-admittedly very vague about you and my own perceptions to conclude that you seem quite nice."

"I am not _nice_. I am lowly, tricky, sneaky, serpent-tongued. I am Foul. Do not you read your own books?" Herpo stopped short and put a hand to his head. "What I want is to be left alone. What wish would I have to take over the world? I do not wish to _see_ it."

"Of course I read them. You've been nice to me; I don't know about lowly; tricky and sneaky could describe Odysseus and _he_ gets an epic; and serpent-tongued describes at the risk of sounding cliche here one of my best friends." She paused. "You really have _not_ come to the right house for solitude, though."

He looked sideways at Ginny and said, "That, I have noticed."

"It's _possible_ to get away by yourself," Ginny said, flushing a bit, "but not always easy. If you want me to let you alone anytime, though, you just have to say so."

"I do not mean to speak against you. I simply...wish her to understand."

"Well..." Hermione hesitated. "In that case perhaps you could clarify whether you mean you don't want any company at all, or just don't want... problematic company?"

"There has never been a difference before. You think I shut myself in a cave with none but my beauties as company for _pleasure_? And they trouble me only because I am an evil, Dark wizard. So. Now you understand."

"If you were," she said slowly, "you'd have 'troubled' them first. And on purpose," she added as he opened his mouth.

He jerked one shoulder up sharply in a shrug. "I am but one, they are many. Who am I to say they were wrong?"

"I'll admit arguing might not have been prudent, but that doesn't make them _right_. Apparently we're working from different definitions of 'Dark wizard'; would it work better if I said you didn't seem malicious?"

Herpo made a sharp motion in the air with his hand. "Enough. I know of what I speak. I intend you no harm, you may be certain of that. But of the rest...no more."

"I didn't think you did," Hermione said evenly. Her eyes had narrowed very slightly. "I think I'd better go ahead and warn you, though, not to go claiming to be a Dark wizard in this time. People are still... sensitive on the topic."

"And simply saying I am Herpo, the Foul, will not make them equally suspicious?"

"You could probably," she suggested drily, "express some legitimate annoyance with your reputation."

"And do you think that will help?" Herpo returned cynically. "Protesting my reputation has never helped before."

"Well, currently it's based on the idea that you created the basilisks for revenge and deliberately sent them out to attack people. I should think correcting that impression _ought_ to help." Hermione sighed and smiled wryly. "Now, granted I _have_ been known to overestimate how sensible people are going to be, but I'm improving."

"And I tend to underestimate them. Perhaps...if the people in this time and place are anything like those here at the Burrow, it will help. I doubt it. But I will do what I can to correct the impression." Herpo looked somewhat daunted by this prospect. This was completely misleading, of course. He was actually terrified. To _seek out_ people, and their opinions, for such a nebulous purpose as a reputation?

He was very tempted to find another cave.

"Well, the Weasleys _are_ something special..." Her mouth twitched. "Hagrid would almost definitely like you, I think, though it might depend on how you are with non-serpentine 'interesting creatures' as he calls them."

"I have rarely dealt with beasts other than serpents." Herpo looked worried. "Will this be a problem?"

"Not if you aren't taking classes from him. He's very nice, really, it's just that he's generally extremely fond of animals most people find terrifying."

"Ah. I know this feeling well." He clasped his hands together in front of him. "If the Weasleys are unusual, what may I expect from others?"

"Anything from fascination to astonishment to, unfortunately, the conviction that the history books are right even where they were guessing. Confusion will probably be a very prominent response...We don't exactly have people time-traveling long periods very often."

"I am ever unique, it seems," Herpo said with a wry and slightly wistful smile. "I suppose it would be too much to hope for another quiet cave and no one knowing of my existence? I have often preferred that..."

"You can't go and live in a cave again!" Ginny interrupted, appalled. She looked abashed the next instant and added, "I mean, I suppose if you really wanted to, but I can't imagine it would be very comfortable and..." She trailed off. "Well, I shouldn't think you'd want to if you didn't have to, that's all."

Herpo looked at her with wide eyes. "I...do not mind. They are not so uncomfortable. ...Somewhat cold." He shrugged. "I simply do not wish to cause conflict..."

"There's nothing saying you can't be a hermit if you like," Ron said with a shrug of his own, "but that doesn't mean you've got to go find a _cave_. I suppose we'd have to let the Ministry know about you, but not necessarily the papers or so on..."

"We'd feel dreadful about it if you did," Ginny added earnestly.

"...Why?"

"Well...because you're a very nice person, and we'd hate to see you shut yourself up in some cave just because you don't want to cause trouble. You can stay with _us_ if nothing else. And there _are_ a lot of nice people who'd just love to meet you."

"You could probably stay with me and Ron if you wanted, too," Harry added, "but Mrs. Weasley's a _much_ better cook than either of us, and it might be hard to stay out of the news that way if that's what you want."

Herpo shrank back a little in his chair, looking bewildered, and Ginny sat up rather worriedly when she saw tears in his eyes. He could understand the idea that they might accept him temporarily, out of a strong sense of host-obligation, though most would not have considered this to apply to him. But to argue against him if he offered to remove himself from their home...? And with feeling, not fear?

"I don't you need not _just_ because " He stopped and tried again. "You I can _almost_ understand," he said, looking toward Harry, "but... the rest of you..."

Arthur stepped in as Herpo's voice failed. "Ginny and Ron are both quite right. We would understand, of course, if you wanted to find a place of your own we realize it tends to be crowded here, probably a bit overwhelming for someone used to solitude but we could hardly send you off to a cave!"

"But...I am accustomed to it. I I do not understand why... I am _nothing_ to you. I am _nothing_! Why would you..." He closed his eyes and asked softly, "Why would you risk someone so ill-omened as myself?"

Ginny sighed and went over to Herpo's chair. "Maybe you're accustomed to it," she said softly, "but _we_ aren't, and we don't really like to think of your being. You as good as said to Hermione that it wouldn't be your choice, not that I'd really have thought it would anyway, and we don't _want_ to send you back to that. And anyway, we like you."

"But why? I am... nothing," Herpo said softly, his hand in front of his eyes. "You would be far better advised to send me away and hope that nothing of me taints your good name."

"_No._" Ginny pulled his hand down and squeezed his arm. "And you're not 'nothing' and you aren't tainted. And we aren't sending you _anywhere_."

"You _should_. You are _fools_!" Herpo surged to his feet, shaking off her arm, and made his way quickly if a bit unsteadly through the people scattered across the room and out the back door into the garden.

Ginny stared after him in shock.

"_That_ went well," George said wryly, going over to the window and peering out. "He hasn't gone far, he's stopped to stare at the zucchini. Suppose someone ought to go talk to him before he freezes or the gnomes eat him; who'll he listen to?"

"Ginny," several voices answered at once.

Ginny turned back to look at them. "_Me_? I'm the one who just made him run _out_, if you didn't notice."

"Yes, but you're also the one who's talked to him the most today," Ron pointed out. "And he seemed to like you. Not like that!" he clarified quickly when she started to glare. "Just...he seemed to listen to you before."

"Besides, it's either you or Harry, since he can clarify the whole 'we don't necessarily think Parselmouths are evil' issue, and honestly, I think you're better at being reassuring," Hermione added earnestly.

Harry blinked. "I would be offended at that, only I agree."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but... oh, all right, but I hope I don't just make things worse again." Ginny peered worriedly out the window, then went to the door and slipped outside.

Herpo had his arms wrapped very tightly around himself as he approached, though he wasn't shivering as badly as the previous day, since the borrowed night robes were far warmer than his own robes. He was staring at the row of zucchini in front of him as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "Herpo?" Ginny asked tentatively. "...Wouldn't you be more comfortable inside? You don't want to get sick again."

"I am fine," he said stiffly.

This was not, in Ginny's opinion, either convincing or helpful. "I'm beginning to agree with my mother," she said under her breath, "about how often that statement is believable." She considered putting a hand on his arm again, but decided that hadn't worked very well last time. "...Please don't run off again. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I only want to protect your family. You have been very kind to me. You do not deserve to be associated with me."

"It's really not likely to hurt us."

"I have hurt _everyone_ I have ever been associated with," Herpo said in a low, rasping voice. "Why should you be any different? It is _better_ if those like me are kept away from decent people!"

"You _are_ decent; if you weren't you wouldn't even be worried about hurting us! If this is because you're a Parselmouth," she added more quietly, "I should probably remind you we're _already_ associated with one."

"II know. But... Ginny, you do not understand. You _could_ not understand. I meant what I said, that I am ill-omened. I bring only pain and disgrace." He closed his eyes. "I wish to bring neither to your family."

"Thank you. But I don't think you will." She bit her lip thoughtfully. "It would be... disgraceful, as far as we're concerned, to turn you away when we could help because we were afraid of...of bad luck. Though you're quite right, I don't really understand why you think you are."

Herpo was silent for a long moment, shivering slightly. Finally he looked over at her and said softly, "I know you thought my family... disgraceful for turning me out, when I told you of them. But if they had not, their own neighbors would have turned on them destroyed their home, driven them away. All for the crime of claiming me as a son. I would never have wished such a fate on them, but it threatened all the same. How else am I to think of myself but bad luck at best, a monster at worst?"

Ginny stopped nibbling at her lip and bit down harder for a moment to drive back a hint of tears. "It wasn't your fault," she said softly. "I...suppose I shouldn't blame your parents, maybe your neighbors didn't know better, but it wasn't _right_. And it still wasn't your fault. I couldn't blame you for being angry, either though I'm glad to know it wasn't true you set the basilisks on them but it hurts to hear you call yourself a monster."

"I never had to let any know of my ability. I could have never spoken Parseltongue and no one would have known, my family would never have been in danger! But I still did. Though I tried to keep it secret, I failed. And my _family_ suffered the consequences. Tell me that is not a monster! If it were not a mark of evil, I could have resisted the temptation and protected them. But I was selfish. I was and am a _monster_!"

"We've all done things we wish we hadn't, and... some turn out worse than others. You weren't trying to hurt anyone." Ginny was staring at the zucchini now. "I talked wrote to a diary that answered back even though I _knew_ it could be dangerous, and by the time I really knew what was going on I fought it and failed and I'm lucky not to have killed anyone."

"...I am sorry."

"I wasn't asking I meant " She stopped and sighed. "Everybody's selfish sometimes. I don't even know if I'd agree that what you did _qualifies_ but I wasn't there, I know, I'm not arguing," she added quickly. "It went... especially badly for you, obviously, and I'm sorry, but it _doesn't_ mean you're evil."

"I have never thought I was evil," Herpo admitted softly, staring fixedly at the ground. "My abilities, perhaps, but mostly... ill-favored." He smiled mirthlessly. "Bad luck. I am safer confined where I may harm none... though apparently even that did not work where my beauties were concerned."

"I... think that was... a lot of it was circumstance. We're _not_ likely to be attacked for having you here, and we're not likely to run amok and be killed for it if you go er, but we still don't want you to. I think you've _had_ a lot of bad luck; that doesn't mean you're going to cause it..."

"You say a terrible Dark wizard was only recently defeated by your people. Would none, then, think ill of you for taking in another who is rumored to be Dark?"

"Probably, which is why correcting the impression would be a good idea," she retorted.

He sighed. "You seem determined not to let me help you."

"Mostly because I don't see how your _leaving_ would be a _help_!"

"I could do you no harm if I were away from you."

"I don't think you're going to harm us from here."

"I tell you, I harm _everything_!"

"And I tell _you_, you WON'T! Just give us a chance, please? We don't want you to disappear. You're... _nice_. I'd like to get the chance to get to know you. Please?"

"I" Herpo was silent for a very long moment. He finally said heavily, "It seems you leave me little choice."

"I'm asking. We're not going to _force_ you to stay but we don't want you to leave thinking we don't want you here, or that you'd hurt us by staying. We'd miss you. Yes, already. And we don't want you... not to have anywhere safe and...and warm to go. Do you think a cave here would be any warmer than in Greece?"

"I... have never known anyone like you and yours, Ginny. I... do not know how to deal with you."

Now she _did_ put a hand on his arm gently and smiled at him. "Stay with us and find out."

Herpo took a breath. "I I thank you. I will try. But if... if at any point you have warning that my presence will go ill for you, I beg you to tell me."

"We will, I promise." She impulsively gave him a tight hug. "Now let's go back inside?"

He froze in shock when she threw her arms around him, certain despite a faint sense of alarm that Ginny wouldn't be _attacking_ him but not at all used to the feeling in spite of that and certainly not expecting it from a _girl_, though the mores here were clearly very different...

But she was warm, and though the motion had been sudden and fierce it didn't hurt, and after a few seconds Herpo started breathing again and very gingerly put an arm around her shoulders as well. "Ve Very well. But... why are you..."

"...I wanted to make you feel better." She released him and stepped back a little. "I suppose I startled you, I'm sorry. But it... seemed like you might need one."

No one touched him. His beauties had, but until he came here they had been the only ones in years; even those who wanted to hurt him tried to strike with spell or something thrown. But here they did. Things were clearly different here... Was it _possible_ that they could be _that_ different, that he could really be...simply a person, not evil or ill-omened, but a person who lived an ordinary life? It seemed too much to hope for. He would suspect this was only a dream, except he would never dream of his poor beauties' terrible fates.

"I s-suppose I did..."

Ginny swallowed hard against tears at his expression and hugged him again, a little less suddenly. She could feel him shaking and started to tighten her arms, then worried suddenly that she wasn't sure _exactly_ where the old wound was and might hurt him. But she hadn't the first time, so she was probably all right.

Herpo felt the arms tighten around him again and very hesitantly tightened his own arm. "...Thank you, Ginny," he said thickly. "I... should return and apologize to your parents for being so... ungracious."

"It's all right, they won't be angry they were just worried. But yes, we should go back in."

He followed as she led him back in, her hand still on his arm. Despite her words, he had no doubt the elder Weasleys would be upset at his rudeness. This only seemed confirmed when everyone stopped talking and turned to look at him when he and Ginny returned. Looking firmly at the floor, Herpo bowed slightly and said, "My apologies for my conduct, to you all. I was unforgiveably rude after all the kindness you have shown me."

"Oh, don't be silly Ginny didn't mean to scare you off," one of the twins said brightly before anyone else could speak.

Arthur coughed slightly. "I'd hardly go that far. I'm aware we can be..." His eyes darted to Harry, who smiled wryly. "...A little overwhelming. I'm quite glad you decided to come back, though."

"I...would like to accept your offer of hospitality, though I implore you to tell me if I become a danger to your family."

"I can't imagine how you'd manage that without knowing about it," Molly said with a trace of amusement as she came over and apparently having concluded that if her daughter could get away with it, so could she enfolding Herpo in a firm and welcoming hug. "It will be all right, dear, really. You mustn't worry."

Herpo stiffened for a moment, then closed his eyes and leaned into the hug. He straightened quickly, but the brief embrace reminded him of the days before his ability had driven him to hide... Though Molly was nothing like his own mother, she reminded him of the days when an embrace was nothing to fear. "Th-thank you," he whispered thickly. "I do not deserve... but thank you."

"It's not a question of deserving. You're here," she told him. And on inspection, he looked _much_ better after a bath, a good night's sleep, and some decent food.

"I am still grateful. Please tell me if there is anything I may do to aid you."

"Well, you could think about joining in on the joke shop," Fred suggested, "but we aren't changing the name."

This set most of the room laughing. Including one of the chairs. As this was the chair Herpo had been sitting in until a few minutes ago, he became very wary of returning to it now. Instead he perched cautiously at one end of the overstuffed red sofa. He offered, "I do not know many jokes, but those I know may be unfamiliar to this time."

"Well, it's mostly stuff for practical jokes... like fake wands, the Canary Creams, other kinds of candy... We're competing with Zonko's, but it's doing pretty well."

"Ah..." Herpo considered this for a long moment, then suggested, "My someone I knew once enjoyed practical jokes of that manner. He once turned his father into a goat with an enchanted oil-jug, and his mother tied him to the back of the house for the entire day before the spell wore off." Herpo's face wore an expression that could nearly be called a smile.

No one in the room missed the hesitations, but none of them asked either.

"That was clever," George remarked approvingly.

"He thought so, even after a month of punishment for it." A small smile. "Though if it is your business, your own parents are surely more understanding of... experimentation."

George and Fred traded a look and burst out laughing.

"Probably a little, but mostly those two are just incorrigible," Ginny said with a grin. "They've moved most of their experiments _out_ of the house recently, though, so there are considerably fewer explosions from their room."

"Ah. And... the rest of your family? What is it wizards do as employ in this time?"

"Well, Dad's in the Ministry Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, specifically and so's Percy, only he's back in equipment regulations now. Bill's my oldest brother; he's a curse-breaker for Gringotts er, that's the wizarding bank and Charlie's a dragon tamer. Though that one's pretty unusual."

"Why is that unusual? Dragons are very useful, and need much tending."

"Well... they're also very dangerous, and most people don't want to work with them."

"Ah. I suppose."

"Have you met any?"

"_Seen_, yes. I would not be so foolish as to try to meet one, with the opinion most of their trainers held of me."

"Ah. Charlie'd be _thrilled_ if you were interested, trust us."

Herpo perked up considerably. "Really? He would allow me to meet his charges? I would be honored."

"He'd love it." Ginny paused. "_Were_ there a lot of trained dragons where you were...? It seems to have been a lost art for a while."

"There were many. They were, as I said, very useful. There was a witch nearby named Medea who had a pair to draw her chariot."

"Considering how much time he's apparently spent trying to _convince_ people they're useful as well as interesting..." She laughed. "We've got to get him home to visit soon."

"I would enjoy meeting him, I am certain."


	5. Caduceus

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor any material profit is expected or intended._

**Herpetology  
by Andrea13 and PersephoneKore  
Chapter 5: Caduceus**

As Arthur had owled Dumbledore about the situation the previous night, and a further update had been provided as soon as Herpo had agreed (with some wariness) to allow a modern healer to have a look at the "old injury" that had nearly debilitated him when Ron bumped it, early in the afternoon the Weasleys gently broke the news that Albus Dumbledore and Poppy Pomfrey would be coming over for a visit, and Madam Pomfrey would like to check his health.

Herpo had accepted the news with apparently reasonable calm, but in reality he had been so tense for the intervening few hours that the scar on his back was beginning to pull and hurt even when he wasn't moving at all. He'd also started sneezing again, intermittently; he still felt better overall than he had for some days in his cave, and was fairly certain he was getting well (and much more quickly than before, at that), but he began to suspect his body of conspiring to help convince this coming healer that perhaps he really _shouldn't_ be allowed among people.

The Weasleys didn't seem to consider any of this cause for concern, at least not for their own sakes, though Molly had wrapped him in a blanket that seemed determined to apply extra heat to anywhere he felt sore (which did help) and was feeding him chicken soup and some sort of potion that felt like an explosion inside his head though it did ease the cold somewhat. When the fire finally flared up to emit a tall, colorful wizard and a shorter, very businesslike-looking witch, he jumped.

Ginny smiled reassuringly at him as everyone in the room rose to give some form of greetings to the new arrivals. There was a quick repeat of the translation spell that was now starting to become routine. Finally Arthur brought them over in front of Herpo who tried to stand, but didn't have much luck between the painful scar, the chicken soup, and the very determined blanket and introduced, "Herpo, this is Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and Poppy Pomfrey, the head mediwitch there. Albus, Poppy, this is Herpo."

Herpo ducked his head in greeting. "It is a great pleasure to meet you both, and I thank you for coming here on my behalf."

"We are quite pleased and intrigued, I might add to meet you as well," Dumbledore said. He was not in the formidable mode everyone present _except_ Herpo had eventually seen in the course of the war; he was instead giving off as reassuring an air as humanly possible.

"I am not so very interesting," Herpo replied, giving up wrestling with the soup and blanket and sitting back down instead. He wasn't careful enough of his back in the process, but hid the reaction.

"Of course you are. At the very least you are a point of exceptional historical curiosity, although naturally we will try to avoid pestering you excessively on the topic."

"I will answer any questions I can, of course." He looked over at Madam Pomfrey. "You are a healer? I... have some small skill in healing myself. I would like to know of the advances since my time."

"I'm sure we could manage that." Poppy studied him briefly. "I suppose this is a bit sudden for a mostly social visit, but I'm also told I should have a look at you?"

"...Yes, apparently. It is just an old injury, but they feel you may be able to do more than I could at the time. It is nothing urgent." This said relatively calmly despite an instant tensing as soon as she mentioned the healing that caused his back to protest again.

"On your back, I'm told? That's always difficult to manage on one's own, even in the best of circumstances."

Herpo briefly considered denying the whole thing, but didn't want to face the Wrath of the Weasleys if he did, so he simply nodded and replied, "Yes, on my back."

"Well, if you're willing then I'll see what I can do." At least she seemed very... practical about it.

"Thank you. What do you need me to do?"

She looked a bit surprised. "Well, for the examination when it's convenient for you, of course, though unless that's today we'll have to arrange to meet again nothing at all except cooperate. It would help if you could tell me what you _did_ do about it, of course."

He was going to have to meet with her _again_, Herpo thought in despair. Wasn't the point of her coming out today to take _care_ of it, whatever it was? He thought for a moment and replied, "I...bandaged it. With healing salves."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I'll ask you about the composition a bit later, if you don't mind _would_ this be a good time for me to look at it?"

"If you are able. I have little planned for today," he admitted with a slightly wry smile.

"Very good." She looked around the room. "Would you excuse us? And where would be a good place?" She was told the correct floor, then helpfully removed the chicken soup from Herpo's lap with a grin for Mrs. Weasley. "Better than some potions, isn't it? I don't suppose you gave him Pepper-Up?"

"I did, but it probably would have worked better at the start of the cold."

"But the soup was excellent," Herpo assured her with a smile, then gathered the longer folds of the blanket around him more securely and followed Madam Pomfrey up the stairs to the room the Weasleys had kindly lent him. "I appreciate your willingness to help, especially when it is merely an old injury."

"It's what I do, Herpo," she told him with a trace of amusement. She watched him sharply as he finished climbing the stairs, still a few steps down when she finished her own climb, and added more seriously, "It hurts when you walk, though, doesn't it?"

"Not...always. Only when I strain or tense or have hit it wrong."

Her eyebrows rose a little as he entered the room and sat down a little uncertainly on the bed. "And which is it this time?"

His mouth twisted a bit. "Some of all three."

"Ah." She studied him sympathetically. "Lie down, please, and let me have a look. If you'd care to elaborate, go right ahead." She cast a light Warming Charm on the bed.

"Elaborate on what?" he asked as he warily stretched out on the bed, loosening the robes so she could examine him.

"How you received it, how you treated it, how it hurts."

"...I was struck by a rock."

"That's enlightening." She was gentle about moving the robes out of the way and gentle when she touched his back _not_ on the scar, or... not on that scar. A warm finger traced a line before she said quietly, "Well, this one seems to have healed well enough," and moved on. "Though you're more than a little tense, as I imagine you know." She laid one hand flat against his back for a moment, almost as warm as the blanket.

Herpo caught his breath and fought for a moment to remain calm. Hadn't he already established that when these people touched him, they didn't necessarily mean harm? Still, it took a moment for him to reply, "It has been a long time since another healer has examined me. And yes, most of them healed quite well. My salves are very good."

"Most of them. This happened often?" Poppy shook her head at her own words, though he couldn't see; she rarely questioned how injuries had been received more than was necessary to cure them, and there was reason for it. "I'm sorry. You needn't answer if you don't like." But she kept her hand in place for a little while; the muscles beneath it didn't unknot, but she waited until a very faint quivering did cease.

"Not often, no. I was not foolish enough to go out in public _often_." Herpo let out a slow breath and tried to force himself to relax. She didn't seem to be doing anything alarming...

The light pressure of her hand shifted a little at the implication of those words; Poppy refused to allow herself a shudder and proceeded with her examination. The one scar that had healed badly was clear enough to pick out. It didn't appear the rock had struck so as to damage the kidney Herpo had been lucky there but it _had_ landed just at the bottom of the ribcage. It looked to have torn some of the muscles, and must have hurt very badly. "This." He winced slightly as her fingers hovered over it, as if he could feel them at the distance.

"Yes..." Herpo's voice trailed off into a hiss that might or might not have been Parseltongue. If it was, Poppy decided she didn't want to know the translation. "It... was struck yesterday, accidentally. It has been more troublesome since then."

"And there's no stretch of the imagination by which you could currently be called _relaxed_." Her voice was wry, but went very soft the next moment. "Could you try to?"

"I am sorry. I am trying," Herpo apologized. He buried his face in the bed, closed his eyes, and tried desperately to pretend that he was back in his cave, alone, with his beauties standing guard so none could come in. He was safe there, he could relax...

...And it was really very difficult to keep up that illusion between the soft bed and the definitely warm-blooded presence behind him. Especially when she _talked_. "There's nothing to apologize for, I assure you. But that's better." He must have managed a bit, at least... "I'm going to cast a charm to help, if you don't mind."

"Whatever you can do," he muttered, trying to imagine a stone floor and the comforting sounds of soft hissing.

His entire body tried to freeze when a small bit of wood the tip of her wand touched the back of his neck just beneath the skull, but then murmured words sent him utterly limp; the next, after he gasped despite the first charm, eerily soothed. "I will not harm you," Poppy said quietly to his back. "I took an oath. You may know it." She narrowed her eyes, thinking, and decided to cast one more charm, one of a few illusions that was considered for symbolic reasons more than practical an essential part of the mediwitch's education.

"_Caduceus._" She didn't cast it in the air, but directly into his mind, and Herpo drew a long breath as the image of a staff materialized for him one with a serpent spiraled around it, that shifted liquidly on the rod and turned to look at him with a breath of a hiss.

_Be calm, be at ease, you will be helped/healed/rested,_ the hiss whispered comfortingly in his ear. Herpo melted into it, feeling as if he must be coming home for the first time in... he didn't even know.

"This is the caduceus," Poppy explained softly as her patient started to (finally!) relax. "It's the symbol of healers now. We take an oath to never cause harm, and to heal anyone who needs it. I promise you, you are safe in my hands."

Apparently, a little to his own surprise, he believed her. Maybe it was because the hissing was repeating her words. He didn't know how she was doing that; surely she wasn't also a Parselmouth... if so he should really not have said what he'd hissed before in front of her... Why would a serpent be a healer's symbol? Had the skill needed to survive turned outward as Parseltongue became more accepted? But he felt as if he might drift back to sleep...

"I can ease the scar," Poppy murmured, still quiet and soothing, "without causing pain. Or I can heal the wound altogether, but that would require destroying the scar itself, reopening it and then healing it again, and that would hurt a little not as the stone, of course and you would need to be careful of the new flesh for a few days."

To heal it...to get rid of the horrible scar the reminder completely, and start again with new flesh..? Such a thing sounded like a dream, but in this drowsy, warm, comfortable state, he was willing to believe in dreams. "If you can heal it completely, I... would like that above all things."

"Very well then. I'll cause you as little pain as I can, but there is no pleasant way to remove scar tissue." Her voice was a little sad as she added, "And frequently no way at all if it's from a Dark enough curse, but at least that's neither here nor there for now. Are you ready?"

The illusion whispered comfort and safety to him again. "Yes..."

"_Analgesia._" And the pain, vastly less since she'd sent his body limp, disappeared completely.

"_Exciscicatrix._" And it was back but different, sharp and torn and damp, and he realized she'd just destroyed nearly all the healing already done, reopened the wound but it didn't hurt as it should, dulled by the first spell. It was milder, and no worse than he'd often felt when cold and tired and uneasy.

The hand free of her wand was laid gently against his back now, higher than the wound. After a few seconds, she spoke again. "_Purgo. Recto. Sano._" From the first he felt nothing; the second felt... strange and made him vaguely queasy as he sensed tiny bits of flesh moving on their own in ways they shouldn't be able do. With the third... he felt her magic ooze through his flesh like water or honey, and there was a faint itching but incredible relief as he realized the wound was being knit together.

Strangely content, he lay still until the feeling of magic stopped and with her other hand still in place she said, "That's done," and removed the charm that had, once he yielded to it, kept his muscles relaxed. "Very good. But do _not_ strain it more than necessary for a few days." There was a hint of a smile in her voice as she went on, "Relaxing as much as possible would also be advisable. But it should do very well unless you have any violent exercise planned."

"II cannot begin to thank you enough, dear lady. Your skill far exceeds my own. I..." Herpo felt his throat tightening even as warm relaxation still flowed through his body.

Poppy patted his shoulder. "It's my job, dear. And you don't seem to have done too bad of a job with most of these. This was just a particularly nasty one, in a very difficult spot. I'd have trouble myself if I was trying to heal it on _me_."

"Still..." Herpo closed his eyes again, treasuring the memory of the snake-staff as much as the freshly-healed wound. "For all you have given me, I thank you."

"You're very welcome. As I said, it's my job, and I was glad to be able to help." Her voice was warm, and Herpo found that whether it was the healing or the lingering effects of her spells, he no longer tensed under her hand.

But he did want to sit up, he thought. "May I move?"

"Yes. Go gently to begin with."

He rolled cautiously onto his side; Poppy helped him to sit up and sat beside him on the bed. "Well?"

Herpo sat quietly, testing the feelings out before replying cautious, "It... pulls a little, and is sore, but in a way that I think will heal as well as the others, not as it did last time." He closed his eyes briefly, his lips pulling up in a small but genuine smile.

"Good. Now... while some of her livelier children might be otherwise inclined, Molly would be perfectly happy to look after you flat on your back in bed until it's completely healed. For once though I'm going to recommend a _slightly_ more vigorous course of action. That would work, but it's closed enough now that you shouldn't tear it walking about, and it won't be as stiff that way."

Herpo looked moderately appalled. "I could not imagine anything else. To lie in bed for so long..." He shook his head. "I will be cautious, though, of certainty."

"It should only be a few days," Poppy repeated with a smile, hugging him gently with the arm she'd used to support him up to a sitting position. The smile wavered a bit as he sneezed suddenly; the look of relief afterwards suggested he'd expected it to hurt. "As for the cold, I'd guess you're nearly over it."

"I thought I _was_ over it," he muttered.

"Nearly, as I said."

"Well, if it hurts so little, I suppose I can tolerate a few days more of it... You said the injury should be healed in only a few days as well? I..." He shook his head. "It has been so long already. That scarcely seems possible."

"You did a good job the first time but circumstances seem to have been decidedly against you. There'd have been little way for you to reach that spot on your own back without bending the flesh out of place, for one thing. And of course there was no bruising this time even before the spell."

"That would help, yes. But you are still very skilled. I thank you." Herpo inclined his head again in a small bow. "I will be cautious, and not undo your fine work." He paused again for a brief sneeze, and fished out the handkerchief Ginny had pushed into his pocket.

"My goodness, I don't get this many compliments from a year's worth of students. Bless you." She patted his shoulder again and stood up. "Will you want to go back downstairs or stay here and rest a bit?"

"You should. You deserve them," Herpo said sincerely, standing up as well. "I would like to return downstairs, if I may."

"Of course. Just don't do anything too vigorous. I'm sure you know what you can and can't manage."

Herpo nodded sincerely and followed her out of the room. He marvelled at being able to walk without the familiar nagging pain in his back. There _was_ soreness, for certain, but it wasn't the same as the pain he'd lived with for too long. He took a deep breath and relished not feeling it pull at him, happier now than in so long.

"_You_ look like you feel better," Harry remarked as they returned to the living room. "Madam Pomfrey's something, isn't she?" He paused and looked faintly embarrassed on realizing she'd actually _heard_ him, for some reason.

"Why thank you, Potter," she said with smile, going to take a seat beside Dumbledore. "I should make house calls more often."

"I feel... amazing," Herpo said with feeling. "She is very talented!"

"I know. She put all the bones back in my arm once."

Herpo blinked. "...Why were they out of it?" he asked cautiously.

"Because I broke it playing Quidditch er, it's a sport, on broomsticks and couldn't fend off Gilderoy Lockhart, who is a _complete idiot_."

"So he took your _bones_?" Herpo asked in horror.

Harry laughed a little. "Well, he was _trying_ to fix the break, but as I said, he's a complete and utter idiot, so he took all the bones _out_ instead." He sighed dramatically. "I swear, I spent more time in hospital than in my own dorm room, when I was at Hogwarts."

"Not _quite_, thankfully," Poppy said drily. "Despite all your attempts to break your neck. That Lockhart was truly absurd though; what he was thinking "

Herpo still looked rather dubious. "That seems a very unlikely mistake."

"Yes, well, Lockhart made an awful lot of unlikely mistakes. His classes were a joke."

"...Perhaps it is not such a bad thing to be self-taught."

"_Most_ of our professors were excellent," Hermione said firmly, giving Harry and Ron quelling looks. "We just think there was a jinx of some kind against the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. They never lasted very long. But we learned a _great deal_."

"And Professor Lupin really was excellent," Harry added with considerable (and unquelled) enthusiasm. "You should meet him too."

"Whomever you wish me to meet, I will meet," Herpo said dutifully, though his enthusiasm for doing so was _slightly_ increased by the brilliant success of meeting their healer.

"Well, in that case maybe we should start introducing you to some girls your own age," Fred suggested teasingly, "as so far the closest has been Ginny..."

"...That is not necessary."

"Oh, you mean you're happy with just Ginny?" George spoke up, his grin matching his twin's. "Come on, mate, I thought you said you weren't interested."

"Do I have to hex you two?" Ginny demanded.

Fred managed to assume a (mostly) innocent expression. "Why, Ginny, we're just trying to be good, caring, compassionate brothers"

"Who look after your interests and protect your honor," George took up.

"In other words," she asked sweetly, "yes?"

"Hey, I haven't heard Herpo _denying_ it."

Ginny gritted her teeth. "Mum, you have plenty of sons. You won't miss two, will you?"

"Please leave them mostly intact, dear, I want them to degnome the garden tomorrow."

Ginny smiled. "Luckily, Madam Pomfrey is here. Now _shut it_, you two!"

"Aww, come on. You know, _neither_ of you _has_ exactly denied it and we know you've got something of a thing for dark hair "

"I have TOLD you, I have NO designs on your sister!" Herpo burst out suddenly and frantically, jumping to his feet. "Please believe I would never...II will cease speaking to her, I swear it."

Everyone else regarded him for a moment in shocked silence at the outburst. "That seems rather excessive," Dumbledore said mildly after a moment.

"And very awkward," Ginny added drily. "Please don't go making rash promises based on Fred and George talking nonsense."

"It is _not_ excessive," Herpo replied, wrapping his arms around himself and hunching his shoulders slightly. He said nothing to Ginny. He didn't even _look_ at her.

"Here, now," Poppy said briskly and yet still gently. "Mind your posture, and sit back down. You look like you're expecting..." She trailed off thoughtfully, then came over and set her hands on his shoulders. "Sit down. It'll be all right."

He flinched away from her slightly, but sat down obediently enough, still watching Fred and George cautiously. "Please believe me. I would never jeopardize your kindness by..."

"There's no need to get _that_ worked up over it," Fred said in what still sounded like mild surprise.

"Unless of course you _do_ like her that way and don't care to see it made a joke of..." George added thoughtfully.

"In which case you're out of luck, I'm afraid, as we'll make a joke of practically anything," Fred explained cheerfully.

"She's too young for you now, of course." This was nearly solicitous. "Not to mention the ridiculous cultural gaps and so on."

"But, you know, she _has_ been after Harry for six or seven years now with no luck..."

"I," said Ginny in a strangled tone, "have not. And I am going to..." Apparently she couldn't think of a threat she was willing to state in front of her Headmaster.

"I can be conveniently deaf if you like, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said easily, interpretting her look. "After all, we aren't at school, nor during term."

"Fred, George," Harry advised, glaring at them, "just shut it, all right?"

"Ooooooooh! Does that mean perhaps our heroic Boy Who Lived is _finally_ ready to become a man?" Fred gasped, clasping his hand to his chest.

"I'm so proud," George added, wiping away a mock tear.

"Both of you," Molly said in a deadly tone that even the twins knew better than to talk over, "stop. Now." A great deal more kindly, she turned to Herpo. "Are you all right, dear?"

"I have _no designs_ on your daughter," he repeated earnestly but shakily, looking at her with wide eyes. "I swear it."

"That's fine, and the twins summarized _those_ aspects of the situation well enough, I suppose, but I wasn't asking you that," she said firmly. "I asked if you're all right."

"...Fine." But there was a hunted look in Herpo's eyes as he continued casting slightly nervous looks back at the twins.

"Oh, dear, don't look like that. They don't really mean any harm."

"I have told them... I would never..." Herpo didn't seem able to manage complete sentences right now. He sighed and rested his head on his hand. "Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive that I know of except that Ginny's probably a bit affronted at your deciding not to speak to her."

Herpo muttered something that sounded like, "It's safer."

Ron snorted. "You haven't known Ginny long enough. Trust me, she's worse than the twins when she has a mind to it."

Ginny preened a bit and looked rather proud.

Molly's mouth twitched slightly, and she brushed a flop of hair out of Herpo's face. "No one is going to be offended if you do talk to her, dear. I'm very sorry if the teasing's getting too much for you."

He flinched back slightly and pulled the borrowed blanket more firmly around himself. "I am fine."

Molly drew back at the flinch, looking slightly hurt. "Are you sure?"

"Honestly, don't worry about Fred and George," Ginny added, abandoning the menace of her brothers and coming over. "They'll make a joke of anything."

"I am sure," Herpo repeated in a flat voice. He didn't look at Ginny.

Ginny sighed and glared back at the twins. "You two see what trouble you cause?" she snapped, then knelt down beside Herpo's chair and put her hand cautiously on his arm. "Please don't be upset with me because my brothers are idiots. I thought we _were_ becoming friends, at least."

Herpo flinched away as if her touch had burned him. "I " He broke off.

"For Merlin's sake," George said impatiently. "Answer her! It wasn't _our_ idea for him to stop talking to you, Ginny."

Ginny whirled around to glower at him. "No, you just gave him the impression you'd " She bit her tongue and turned back to Herpo. "They're not going to do anything to you, you know..."

"I would prefer not to antagonize them," Herpo said in a very low voice.

"You _haven't_. They're just being annoying on purpose. It's their mission in life."

"They also seek to protect their sister. ...Believe me, I understand."

"Given their sense of humor I'm more likely to need protection from them than you, and I've survived them for seventeen years already."

Herpo shrugged sharply. "It is not for me to say."

"Maybe not, but _I_ have a pretty good idea!"

"E_nough_!" Herpo snapped, jerking his arm away from her touch. "I say what I say, and I will say no more!"

"What?" Ginny muttered.

"Herpo, there's no need to snap at her." Molly frowned. "Please calm down."

"I am calm!"

"No, you aren't," Poppy said firmly. "Will everyone please stop upsetting him?"

"I'm not upset," Herpo protested weakly and entirely unconvincingly.

Ginny backed away from him and sat down in a chair, looking unhappy. Herpo looked fairly unhappy himself. He seemed to be trying to sink deeper into either his robes, the blanket, or the chair, but didn't seem to be succeeding on any count. "I do not mean to cause problems..." he muttered quietly, not looking at anyone.

"I blame Fred and George," Ginny growled.

"Yes, that seems fair enough," Molly agreed.

"Aww. We were kidding him!"

"And Ginny, of course."

"It's not as if we _threatened_ him."

Herpo disappeared a little more into his blanket. "I told you I"

"Will you _stop_ trying to explain things to them?" Ginny asked, half in exasperation and half in amazement. "Nobody thinks you were going to do anything the least bit improper. Just _ignore_ them."

"I can hardly do that," he replied stiffly. "They are within their rights "

"On second thought, stop trying to explain things to _me_, too. At least, stop trying to explain my own family to me. If you want to explain _why_ you're so convinced you have to convince _them_ you aren't interested in me irritating as Fred is, he has a point, it's not as if they're going to oh, _Merlin_." She stopped and put a hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about. You did nothing wrong."

"And neither did you," she retorted softly. "Herpo...there is _nothing_ wrong with you, and there would be _nothing_ wrong if you DID like me...or anyone else, for that matter! Look at Harry! He's a Parselmouth and those idiots didn't have a problem with HIM when I liked him." More quietly yet, "No one's going to hurt you here, I promise."

"I should hope they didn't," Harry said wryly. "They were the only reason I didn't have _worse_ than a broken arm, that one time."

Fred and George themselves looked rather dumbfounded. "You thought we _were_ threatening you?"

"Didn't mean it like that, mate. I mean, you _would_ have to wait for her to grow up, but..."

"II do not I just..." Herpo sighed and covered his face. "I am making a fool out of myself, apparently."

"No you aren't." Ginny was at his side again, but hovering a little away. "But they _won't_ hurt you. Honestly."

"You are a very strange family," Herpo mumbled.

"We know," George assured him. "But what on earth did you _think_ we were going to do to you?"

A sharp shrug. "The usual, I suppose..."

"What's usual?"

"What do you think? Thrown stones and curses! It seems I'm to lose the mark of the time I _did_ dare to look at a girl fool that I was but I had not expected to."

Everyone appeared to be shocked into silence by this burst-out admission. Finally Ron said slowly, "...You mean that 'old injury' that hurt so much was because someone threw a ROCK at you just because you looked at a GIRL!" He spluttered incoherently. "That's insane!"

"Her _brother_ did not consider my attentions...suitable. Under the circumstances he was probably right; I rather doubt she'd have cared to be consigned to a cave." But...as strange as the reaction might be, it was a little comforting.

"Then that was _her_ choice to make, and even if it was his, there are a lot better ways to express it than attacking you!" Ginny said firmly. She _very_ cautiously placed her hand back on his arm. "Just try to remember that you're _not_ there anymore, and we DO have different ways of going about things now."

"Right," said George. "And we promise not to break out the Bludgers."

"Unless you want to learn to play Quidditch, of course," Fred corrected. "In which case we'd have to, you see; they're part of the game."

"We don't make any guarantees about Percy talking your ears off, though," George noted thoughtfully, "but he'll do that _anyway_. You mustn't take it personally."

"You _all_ seem to talk a great deal," Herpo countered, a bit of spirit worming its way up again from where he'd shoved it firmly to the base of his spine. "My ears seem intact, unless I am a worse healer than I thought and did not notice."

"They still look attached," Madam Pomfrey said solemnly.

It was a very perverse reaction, but now that Herpo found himself clean, warm, and healed, he was having more trouble sleeping than when he'd lain shivering on a cold stone floor with rocks pushing into half-healed wounds. He sighed and tossed once more on the very soft and comfortable bed, wondering why he couldn't just accept that comfort and _sleep_. But his mind simply refused to stop turning every detail of the past few days over and over. The thoughts should be worn to a nub by now, but they seemed as sharp as ever.

He'd gone from his cave to twenty-five centuries in the future, in this Britain, where the Weasley family took him in almost as one of their own, despite knowing of his ability in Parseltongue and his reputation in this time as a Dark wizard. That... was far more than he'd ever hoped _anyone_ would do, much less an entire family.

And yet he still did not know what he was to _do_ in this strange new land, and his beauties were long gone, then only ones who had truly been _his_. Perhaps that was the cause of his sleeplessness...

After lying there for he knew not how long, Herpo finally pushed the blankets aside and stood, pushing his feet back into the slippers he had been lent. Perhaps some air would clear his head.

He padded down the stairs as silently as he could and went to the door... and realized that even if he was _beginning_ to get used to the climate here, he still found their nights ridiculously chilly. Perhaps he'd be more accustomed to it by the time it grew _colder_, as they insisted it would he'd spend the entire season indoors otherwise. Not that this would be that unusual for him he had for some time avoided spending much time where he had to move _too_ much or be around people...

...Neither of which, apparently, was now necessary. The old scar on his back, now erased and mostly healed, didn't bite the way it used to. Even on the stairs.

He slipped very quietly outside. The chill didn't work quite as he'd hoped; the first breath of night air did drive out other thoughts, but it also woke him up and they all came flooding back in.

Molly Weasley turned over in bed as she heard footsteps going down the stairs. She knew how each of her children walked both ordinarily and when they were trying to be quiet and it wasn't any of them. "Arthur," she said softly.

"I heard." They listened for a moment until hearing the near-silent click of the door.

"Do you suppose he's all right? It's been a hard day or two for him. ...And life, I suppose, but this would have been terribly confusing."

"I think I'd be surprised if he's sneaking off. Not sleeping is understandable..." Arthur glanced toward the window. "Still, he'll get chilled out there quickly. We should probably..."

"I'll go get him," she said decisively. "If he needs to think, he can do it in the kitchen over warm milk."

Arthur chuckled and put his head back down as she patted his shoulder and pressed him back into the mattress. Molly threw on her robes swiftly and went quietly down the stairs and outside. She didn't see Herpo at first, but a few more steps out and she spotted him next to Ginny's tree. "Herpo?" she called softly.

Herpo actually jumped several inches off the ground, whirling around to press his back against the tree. "W-who Molly." His heartbeat calmed considerably when he made that identification. "I did not mean to disturb you. I did not think there would be anything amiss in going outside..."

"And I didn't mean to startle you." As his voice had calmed considerably, she ventured closer. "There's nothing wrong with it, exactly, but I thought you might get chilled."

"It _is_ cooler than I am accustomed to," he admitted, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He eased away from the tree, as that placed uncomfortable pressure on the newly-healed wound. "I simply... could not sleep, and wished for air."

"Well, if you've had enough of it, perhaps you'd like to come back in for some warm milk? Or, I suppose, I could bring you a cloak."

"You need go to no trouble for me." Even as he protested, Herpo's knowledge of Molly to this point told him firmly that there was no way he'd get away with an excuse like that.

"It isn't any trouble."

Well, it _would_ be warmer in there... Herpo shivered a bit and found himself agreeing. He followed Molly inside, where she summoned a pan and the milk, then began heating up both on the stove... along with pulling out an assortment of other food for the poor dear to snack on.

Herpo watched her in bemusement. "This is not necessary..."

"Of course it is. Or at any rate, it's going to be done." She smiled warmly at him and summoned the blanket that had been cuddling him half the day to wrap around him again. "Don't worry yourself."

"I am not worried," Herpo admitted, wrapping the comforting blanket around him with a smile. "I enjoy your company, even if I am not yet accustomed to it."

"Well, that's good to know." She stirred the milk a bit and then poured some into mugs. "There. See if that doesn't help."

He took a cautious sip. The flavors of even the most commonplace foods tasted different to him here, but this was different in a pleasant way. "It is good!" he said with a smile, taking another sip. "Very good. But unusual. Where do you keep your goats? I saw only chickens earlier."

She chuckled. "It's from cows, actually, and we don't keep them here; the milk's bought from people who do keep them."

"Milk from _cows_?" Herpo made a dubious face, but it _was_ good. "I am learning something new with each moment, it seems."

"Would I be right in guessing that's half why you couldn't get to sleep?" Molly slid into another chair with her own mug. "With all the sudden changes, I'm sure you've a great deal to think about."

"It is much of the cause," Herpo admitted, shifting his mug from hand to hand. "I never truly thought of leaving my homeland, for all that I had... no one close there. But to leave it so suddenly, and for such an alien place... " He shook his head. "That, I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams."

"No, I'd imagine not. It can't be easy."

"Not easy to suddenly have all one desires? Shelter, warmth, safety, healing... kind people such as yourself."

She reached over and patted his hand. "Not easy to be away from everything familiar, so suddenly, even so. But I'm very glad if we've been able to make it more comfortable for you."

"I suspect you, madam, would be able to make any feel comfortable."

"You flatter me, but I try."

"You do very well. You remind me of" Herpo stopped short and shook his head. "You are very hospitable."

"Thank you." She looked at him thoughtfully. "Though now I'm curious as to whom you decided not to compare me to."

"...No one. You remind me of no one."

"...If you like." She sipped at her milk.

Herpo chased a droplet of water around the tabletop for a long moment while Molly waited in non-threatening silence. In a barely audible voice, he admitted, "You remind me of a woman named Ismene. She... was graciousness and hospitality personified."

"Well, then. I appreciate the comparison." But clearly there was something more to the situation; he hadn't stayed or hadn't been able to stay with this Ismene, obviously, and she seemed to be a difficult topic...

Herpo shrugged and chased the dewdrop around some more. In truth, there was little overtly alike between the two women. But there was a... presence they exuded, that made one feel... at home. "You should be pleased at raising such a fine family and having such a fine home."

"I am." She watched him thoughtfully.

"What would you do," Herpo asked slowly, "if one of your sons became... something else? Not... what you raised."

Molly felt her heart clench at that. Ismene... must have been his mother? "It depends," she said slowly, "on what you mean. I'd still love him. If I possibly could, I'd still look after him if he needed it. Unless he'd... set himself against us, and wouldn't allow it..." The way Percy had, for a time.

"What if you needed to cast him out?" Herpo asked, more quietly yet. "What... Would you want to ever see him again? Would you treasure your memories, or try to erase them?"

"I could never try to erase them, even if it hurt. And I would _always_ want him back, whether I could have him or not."

"Then... your sons are very fortunate to have you." Herpo swallowed the remainder of his milk quickly and stood. "I should return to bed."

"Will you be able to sleep now?" Molly stood as well, though her mug was only half-empty; the faint choke in his voice was heartbreaking.

"II hope so."

"...Come here." He hadn't objected when she'd hugged him before... She spoke very gently, and while he didn't exactly move toward her, he didn't resist when she put her arms around him and drew his head down onto her shoulder.

"I..." Herpo shuddered and closed his eyes. For one moment, he allowed himself to remember another house full of love, with a boisterous little brother running down the hall, a tall and strong father who could take on any task... and a mother, warm and soft when he laid his head on her knee and listened to her sing.

That place was gone now, after twenty-three centuries of time's ceaseless motion. But for him, it had been gone long before that, from the first time the neighbor boy heard Herpo hiss to a passing snake and run screaming to his mother... when he'd seen his father's eyes fill with anger and his mother's with sadness.

Molly rubbed the too-thin, bent back and held on while Herpo's shudders grew once he had leaned against her, just barely, she had no intention of letting go as long as he didn't pull away, not now. "You have a home here as long as you wish it," she whispered, almost too softly to hear. "I know it can't truly make up for losing one, but you do."

Herpo felt something prickling at the backs of his eyelids. "You are... so kind," he whispered in a choked voice. "You do not even know me andand" He choked again as a hot tear forced its way through his tightly-shut eyelids.

"You're friendly enough and you need a place to stay. That will do." She freed one arm for her wand and Transfigured one of the kitchen chairs into a small sofa so that they could both sit down.

Herpo readjusted himself slightly as the chair changed beneath them, but did not move from Molly's warm embrace. "I dreamed of a place like this," he admitted quietly.

"Did you?" She let him lean against her; he trembled again and then relaxed as more tears flowed.

"Not exactly this... I could not imagine such a place existed. Nor such people. But... " He let out a shaky sigh. "The feelings here."

"Oh, my dear..."

"I... should not make such presumptions. But... the woman, Ismene, I said you reminded me of... she was my mother. You... are not so similar in most respects, except... this feeling."

"I thought she might have been," Molly murmured. "You're not being presumptuous, Herpo, I'm glad if we can... make you feel at home."

"More than I thought possible..."

She murmured soothingly without real words and kissed his forehead lightly. The tears stopped eventually, but he still leaned against her shoulder, finally drowsy though he didn't really want to move...

Molly, however, was a world-class professional mother, and she could read the signs easily enough even when the person in question _wasn't_ one of her own children. She patted his arm gently and suggested, "Perhaps it's time for you to get back to bed. You still have a lot of resting to catch up on if you're going to heal completely."

Herpo really _meant_ to answer her, but yawned helplessly as soon as he opened his mouth. "I... suppose you're right," he admitted when he could speak. She was smiling at him again.

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Arthur and I are right down the hall if you need anything. Actually, I think speaking above a whisper in this house automatically guarantees _someone_ will hear and come to your aid." She chuckled and brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes. "Do you think you can walk up there, or should I help?"

"I can walk. I..." He yawned again. "Thank you..."

"Any time, dear. And I _do_ mean that."

He had the strangest feeling that she did.

He did manage to climb the stairs on his own, though he kept hold of the banister to remind himself where he was and not to curl up on the steps and doze off. Molly paused outside her own door to watch him climb for a moment, then changed her mind and followed him quietly up the stairs to tuck him in before going back to bed herself.

When Herpo slept again, it was with a smile on his face. He couldn't go home again, but... perhaps here he could make a new home.

__

Yes, that really is the end of this story, though for Herpo it's the decision to make a new start now that he knows he can.


End file.
